II. 


PRINCETON,  N.  J. 


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Section  • 1-143 

Number.  V*  S 


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GLIMPSES 


OF 


UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN 


BY 


v/. 


LAFCADIO  HEARN 


IN  TWO  VOLUMES 
VOL.  II. 


BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 
HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND  COMPANY 
(3tbe  fiitrrsibe  prrsi,  <Cambnb0e 
MDCCCXCV 


Copyright,  18W, 

3y  LAFCADIO  HEARN. 

All  rights  reserved. 


The  Riverside  Press,  Cambridge,  Mass.,  U.  S.  A. 
Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  H.  O.  Hougliton  and  Company. 


CONTENTS. 


VOL.  II. 

FAOB 

XVI.  In  a Japanese  Garden 343 

XVII.  The  Household  Shrine 385 

XVni.  Of  Women’s  Hair 417 

XIX.  Fro.m  the  Diary  of  an  English  Teacher  . 430 

XX.  Two  Strange  Festivals 491 

XXI.  By  the  Japane.se  Sea 504 

XXII  Of  A Dancing-Girl 525 

XXIII.  From  Hoki  to  Oki 5.53 

XXIV.  Of  Soues 626 

XXV.  Of  Ghosts  and  Goblins 637 

XXVI.  The  Japanese  Smile 656 

XXVII.  Sayonaua  ! 684 


Index 


695 


GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 

XVI 

IN  A JAPANESE  GARDEN. 


I. 

My  little  two-story  house  by  the  Ohashigawa, 
although  dainty  as  a bird-cage,  proved  much  too 
small  for  comfort  at  the  approach  of  the  hot  season, 
— the  rooms  being  scarcely  higher  than  steamship 
cabins,  and  so  narrow  that  an  ordinary  mosquito-net 
could  not  be  suspended  in  them.  I was  sorry  to  lose 
the  beautiful  lake  view,  but  I found  it  necessary  to 
remove  to  the  northern  quarter  of  the  city,  into  a 
very  quiet  street  behind  the  mouldering  castle.  My 
new  home  is  a katchiu-yashiki,  the  ancient  residence 
of  some  samurai  of  high  rank.  It  is  shut  off  from 
the  street,  or  rather  roadway,  skirting  the  castle  moat 
by  a long,  high  wall  coped  with  tiles.  One  ascends 
to  the  gateway,  which  is  almost  as  large  as  that  of  a 
temple  court,  by  a low  broad  flight  of  stone  steps; 
and  projecting  from  the  wall,  to  the  right  of  the  gate, 
is  a lookout  window,  heavily  barred,  like  a big  wooden 
cage.  Thence,  in  feudal  days,  armed  retainers  kept 
keen  watch  on  all  who  passed  by,  — invisible  watch, 
for  the  bars  are  set  so  closely  that  a face  behind  them 
cannot  be  seen  from  the  roadway.  Inside  the  gate 
the  approach  to  the  dwelling  is  also  walled  in  on  both 
sides,  so  that  the  visitor,  unless  privileged,  could  see 

VOL.  IL 


344  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


before  him  only  the  house  entrance,  always  closed  with 
white  shoji.  Like  all  samurai  homes,  the  residence  it- 
self is  but  one  story  higli,  but  there  are  fourteen  rooms 
within,  and  these  are  lofty,  spacious,  and  beautiful. 
There  is,  alas,  no  lake  view  nor  any  charming  pros- 
pect. Part  of  the  0-Shiroyama,  with  the  castle  on 
its  summit,  half  concealed  by  a park  of  pines,  may 
be  seen  above  the  coping  of  the  front  wall,  but  only 
a part ; and  scai’cely  a hundred  5'ards  behind  the 
house  rise  densely  wooded  heights,  cutting  off  not 
only  the  horizon,  but  a large  slice  of  the  sky  as  well. 
For  this  immurement,  however,  there  exists  fair  com- 
pensation in  the  shape  of  a very  pretty  garden,  or 
rather  a series  of  garden  spaces,  which  surround  the 
dwelling  on  three  sides.  Broad  verandas  overlook 
these,  and  fi’om  a certain  veranda  angle  I can  enjoy 
the  sight  of  two  gardens  at  once.  Screens  of  bamboos 
and  woven  rushes,  with  wide  gateless  openings  in 
their  midst,  mark  the  boundaries  of  the  three  divisions 
of  the  pleasure-grounds.  But  these  structures  are 
not  intended  to  serve  as  true  fences ; they  are  orna- 
mental, and  only  indicate  where  one  style  of  land- 
scape gardening  ends  and  another  begins. 


n. 

Now  a few  words  upon  Japanese  gardens  in  gen- 
eral. 

After  having  learned  — merely  by  seeing,  for  the 
practical  knowledge  of  the  art  requires  years  of  study 
and  experience,  besides  a natural,  instinctive  sense 
of  beauty  — something  about  the  Japanese  manner 
of  arranging  flowers,  one  can  thereafter  consider 
European  ideas  of  floral  decoration  only  as  vulgari- 
ties. This  observation  is  not  the  result  of  any  hasty 


IN  A JAPANESE  GARDEN. 


345 


t 

enthusiasm,  but  a conviction  settled  by  long  residence 
in  the  interior.  I have  come  to  understand  the  un- 
speakable loveliness  of  a solitary  spray  of  blossoms 
arranged  as  only  a Japanese  expert  knows  how  to 
arrange  it,  — not  by  simply  poking  the  spray  into  a 
vase,  but  by  perhaps  one  whole  hour’s  labor  of  trim- 
ming and  posing  and  daintiest  manipulation, — and 
tlierefore  I cannot  think  now  of  what  we  Occidentals 
call  a “ bouquet  ” as  anything  but  a vulgar  murdering 
of  flowers,  an  outrage  upon  the  color-sense,  a bru- 
tality, an  abomination.  Somewhat  in  the  same  way, 
and  for  similar  reasons,  after  having  learned  what  an 
old  Japanese  garden  is,  I can  remember  our  costliest 
gardens  at  home  only  as  ignorant  displays  of  what 
wealth  can  accomplish  in  the  creation  of  incongrui- 
ties that  violate  nature. 

Now  a Japanese  garden  is  not  a flower  garden ; 
^neither  is  it  made  for  the  purpose  of  cultivating 
plants.  In  nine  cases  out  of  ten  there  is  nothing  in 
it  resembling  a flower-bed.  Some  gardens  may  con- 
tain scarcely  a sprig  of  green  ; some  have  nothing 
green  at  all,  and  consist  entirely  of  rocks  and  peb- 
bles and  sand,  although  these  are  exceptional.^  As 
a rule,  a Japanese  garden  is  a landscape  garden,  yet 
its  existence  does  not  depend  upon  any  fixed  allow- 
ance of  space.  It  may  cover  one  acre  or  many  acres. 
It  may  also  be  only  ten  feet  square.  It  may,  in  ex- 
treme cases,  be  much  less ; for  a certain  kind  of 

1 Such  as  the  garden  attached  to  the  abbot’s  palace  at  Tokuwa- 
monji,  cited  by  Mr.  Conder,  which  was  made  to  commemorate  the 
legend  of  stones  which  bowed  themselves  in  assent  to  the  doctrine  of 
Buddha.  At  Togo-ike,  in  Tottori-ken,  I saw  a very  large  garden 
consisting  almost  entirely  of  stones  and  sand.  The  impression  which 
the  designer  had  intended  to  convey  was  that  of  approaching  the  sea 
over  a verge  of  dunes,  and  the  illusion  was  beautiful. 


346  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


Japanese  garden  can  be  contrived  small  enough  to 
put  in  a tokonoma.  Such  a garden,  in  a vessel  no 
larger  than  a fruit-dish^  is  called  koniwa  or  toko- 
niwa,  and  may  occasionally  be  seen  in  the  tokonoma 
of  humble  little  dwellings  so  closely  squeezed  be- 
tween other  structures  as  to  possess  no  ground  in 
which  to  cultivate  an  outdoor  garden.  (I  say  “an 
outdoor  garden,”  because  there  are  indoor  gardens, 
both  upstairs  and  downstairs,  in  some  large  Japa- 
nese houses.)  The  toko-niwa  is  usually  made  in 
some  curious  bowl,  or  shallow  carved  box,  or  quaintly 
shaped  vessel  impossible  to  describe  by  any  English 
word.  Therein  are  created  minuscule  hills  with 
minuscule  houses  upon  them,  and  microscopic  ponds 
and  rivulets  spanned  by  tiny  humped  bridges;  and 
queer  wee  plants  do  duty  for  trees,  and  curiously 
formed  pebbles  stand  for  rocks,  and  there  are  tiny 
toro,  perhaps  a tiny  torii  as  well,  — in  short,  a charm- 
ing and  living  model  of  a Japanese  landscape. 

Another  fact  of  prime  importance  to  remember  is 
that,  in  order  to  comprehend  the  beauty  of  a Japa- 
nese garden,  it  is  necessary  to  understand  — or  at 
least  to  learn  to  understand  — the  beauty  of  stones. 
Not  of  stones  quarried  by  the  hand  of  man,  but  of 
stones  shaped  by  nature  only.  Until  you  can  feel, 
and  keenly  feel,  that  stones  have  character,  that 
stones  have  tones  and  values,  the  whole  artistic  mean- 
ing of  a Japanese  garden  cannot  be  revealed  to  you. 
In  the  foreigner,  however  aesthetic  he  may  be,  this 
feeling  needs  to  be  cultivated  by  study.  It  is  inborn 
in  the  Japanese ; the  soul  of  the  race  comprehends 
Nature  infinitely  better  than  we  do,  at  least  in  her 
visible  forms.  But  although,  being  an  Occidental, 
the  true  sense  of  the  beauty  of  stones  can  be  reached 


IN  A JAPANESE  GARDEN. 


347 


by  you  only  through  long  familiarity  with  the  Jap- 
anese use  and  choice  of  them,  the  characters  of  the 
lessons  to  be  acquired  exist  everywhere  about  you, 
if  your  life  be  in  the  interior.  You  cannot  walk 
through  a street  without  observing  tasks  and  problems 
in  the  sesthetics  of  stones  for  you  to  master.  At  the 
approaches  to  temples,  by  the  side  of  roads,  before 
holy  groves,  and  in  all  parks  and  pleasure-grounds, 
as  well  as  in  all  cemeteries,  you  will  notice  large, 
irregular,  flat  slabs  of  natural  rock  — mostly  from 
the  river  beds  and  water-worn  — sculptured  with 
ideographs,  but  unhewn.  These  have  been  set  up  as 
votive  tablets,  as  commemorative  monuments,  as 
tombstones,  and  are  much  more  costly  than  the  ordi- 
nary cut-stone  columns  and  haka  chiseled  with  the 
figures  of  divinities  in  relief.  Again,  you  will  see 
before  most  of  the  shrines,  nay,  even  in  the  grounds 
of  nearly  all  large  homesteads,  great  irregular  blocks 
of  granite  or  other  hard  rock,  worn  by  the  action  of 
torrents,  and  converted  into  water-basins  (^chodzu- 
bachi')  by  cutting  a circular  hollow  in  the  top.  Such 
are  but  common  examples  of  the  utilization  of  stones 
even  in  the  poorest  villages;  and  if  you  have  any 
natural  artistic  sentiment,  you  cannot  fail  to  discover, 
sooner  or  later,  how  much  more  beautiful  are  these 
natural  forms  than  any  shapes  from  the  hand  of  the 
stone-cutter.  It  is  probable,  too,  that  you  will  be- 
come so  habituated  at  last  to  the  sight  of  inscriptions 
cut  upon  rock  surfaces,  especially  if  you  travel  much 
through  the  country,  that  you  will  often  find  yourself 
involuntarily  looking  for  texts  or  other  chiselings 
where  there  are  none,  and  could  not  possibly  be,  as 
if  ideographs  belonged  by  natural  law  to  rock  forma- 
tion. And  stones  will  begin,  perhaps,  to  assume  for 


348  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


you  a certain  individual  or  physiognomical  aspect,  — 
to  suggest  moods  and  sensations,  as  they  do  to  the 
Japanese.  Indeed,  Japan  is  particularly  a land  of 
suggestive  shapes  in  sljone,  as  high  volcanic  lands  are 
apt  to  be  ; and  such  shapes  doubtless  addressed  them- 
selves to  the  imagination  of  the  race  at  a time  long 
prior  to  the  date  of  that  archaic  text  which  tells  of 
demons  in  Izumo  “ who  made  rocks,  and  the  roots  of 
trees,  and  leaves,  and  the  foam  of  the  green  waters 
to  speak.” 

As  might  be  expected  in  a country  where  the  sug- 
gestiveness of  natural  forms  is  thus  recognized,  there 
are  in  Japan  many  curious  beliefs  and  superstitions 
concerning  stones.  In  almost  every  province  there 
are  famous  stones  supposed  to  be  sacred  or  haunted, 
or  to  possess  miraculous  powers,  such  as  the  Women’s 
Stone  at  the  temple  of  Hachiman  at  Kamakura,  and 
the  Sessho-seki,  or  Death  Stone  of  Nasu,  and  the 
Wealth-giving  Stone  at  Enoshima,  to  which  pilgrims 
pay  reverence.  There  are  even  legends  of  stones 
having  manifested  sensibility,  like  the  tradition  of  the 
Noddinsi  Stones  which  bowed  down  before  the  monk 
Daita  when  he  preached  unto  them  the  word  of  Bud- 
dha; or  the  ancient  story  from  the  Kojiki,  that  the 
Emperor  0-Jin,  being  augustly  intoxicated,  “ smote 
with  his  august  staff  a great  stone  in  the  middle  of 
the  Ohosaka  road,  whereupon  the  stone  ran  aicayl"^ 

Now  stones  ai'e  valued  for  their  beauty ; and  large 
stones  selected  for  their  shape  may  have  an  aesthetic 
worth  of  hundreds  of  dollars.  And  large  stones 
form  the  skeleton,  or  framework,  in  the  design  of  old 
Japanese  gardens.  Not  only  is  every  stone  chosen 
with  a view  to  its  particular  expressiveness  of  form, 
1 The  Kojiki,  translated  by  Professor  B.  H.  Chamberlain,  p.  254. 


IN  A JAPANESE  GARDEN. 


349 


but  every  stone  in  the  garden  or  about  the  premises 
has  its  separate  and  individual  name,  indicating  its 
purpose  or  its  decorative  duty.  But  I can  tell  you 
only  a little,  a very  little,  of  the  folk-lore  of  a Japa- 
nese garden  ; and  if  you  want  to  know  more  about 
stones  and  their  names,  and  about  the  philosophy  of 
gardens,  read  the  unique  essay  of  Mr.  Conder  on  the 
Art  of  Landscape  Gardening  in  Japan, ^ and  his  beau- 
tiful book  on  the  Japanese  Art  of  Floral  Decoration ; 
and  also  the  brief  but  charming  chapter  on  Gardens, 
in  Moi’se’s  Japanese  Hornes.^ 

III. 

No  effort  to  create  an  impossible  or  purely  ideal 
landscape  is  made  in  the  Japanese  garden.  Its  ar- 
tistic purpose  is  to  copy  faithfully  the  attractions  of  a 
veritable  landscape,  and  to  convey  the  real  impression 
that  a real  landscape  communicates.  It  is  therefoie 
at  once  a picture  and  a poem  ; perhaps  even  more  a 
poem  than  a picture.  For  as  nature's  scenery,  in  its 
varying  aspects,  affects  us  with  sensations  of  joy  or 
of  solemnity,  of  grimness  or  of  sweetness,  of  force  or  of 
peace,  so  must  the  true  reflection  of  it  in  the  labor  of 


1 Since  this  paper  was  WTitteu,  Mr.  Conder  has  puldislied  a beau- 
tiful illustrated  volume,  — “ Landscape  Gardening  in  Japan.  l?y 
Josiah  Conder,  F.  R.  I.,  B.  A.  Tokyo  : 1893.”  A photographic  sup- 
plement to  the  work  gives  views  of  the  most  famous  gardens  in  the 
capital  and  elsewhere. 

2 The  observations  of  Dr.  Rein  on  Japanese  gardens  are  not  to  be 
recommended,  in  respect  either  to  accuracy  or  to  comprehension  of 
the  subject.  Rein  spent  only  two  years  in  Japan,  the  larger  part  of 
which  time  he  devoted  to  the  study  of  the  lacquer  industry,  the  manu- 
facture of  silk  and  paper,  and  other  practical  matters.  On  these  sub- 
jects his  work  is  justly  valued.  But  his  chapters  on  Japanese  man- 
ners and  customs,  art,  religion,  and  literature  show  extremely  little 
acquaintance  with  those  topics. 


350  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


the  landscape  gardener  create  not  merely  an  impres- 
sion of  beauty,  but  a mood  in  the  soul.  The  grand 
old  landscape  gardeners,  those  Buddhist  monks  who 
first  introduced  the  art  into  Japan,  and  subsequently 
developed  it  into  an  almost  occult  science,  carried 
their  theory  yet  farther  than  this.  They  held  it  pos- 
sible to  express  moral  lessons  in  the  design  of  a gar- 
den, and  abstract  ideas,  such  as  Chastity,  Faith,  Piety, 
Content,  Calm,  and  Connub.ial  Bliss.  Therefore  were 
gardens  contrived  according  to  the  character  of  the 
owner,  whether  poet,  warrior,  philosopher,  or  priest. 
In  those  ancient  gardens  (the  art,  alas,  is  passing 
away  under  the  withering  influence  of  the  utterly 
commonplace  Western  taste)  there  were  expressed 
both  a mood  of  nature  and  some  rare  Oriental  con- 
ception of  a mood  of  man. 

I do  not  know  what  human  sentiment  the  princi- 
pal division  of  my  garden  was  intended  to  I’eflect; 
and  there  is  none  to  tell  me.  Those  by  whom  it  was 
made  passed  away  long  generations  ago,  in  the  eter- 
nal transmigration  of  souls.  But  as  a poem  of  na- 
ture it  requires  no  interpreter.  It  occupies  the  front 
portion  of  the  grounds,  facing  south  ; and  it  also  ex- 
tends west  to  the  verge  of  the  northern  division  of  the 
garden,  from  which  it  is  partly  separated  by  a curi- 
ous screen-fence  structure.  There  are  large  rocks  in 
it,  heavily  mossed ; and  divers  fantastic  basins  of 
stone  for  holding  water ; and  stone  lamps  green  with 
years ; and  a shacliihoko,  such  as  one  sees  at  the 
peaked  angles  of  castle  roofs,  — a great  stone  fish,  an 
idealized  porpoise,  with  its  nose  in  the  ground  and  its 
tail  in  the  air.^  There  are  miniature  hills,  with  old 

1 This  attitude  of  the  shachihoko  is  somewhat  de  rigueur,  wheuce  the 


IN  A JAPANESE  GARDEN. 


351 


trees  upon  them ; and  there  are  long  slopes  of  green, 
shadowed  by  flowering  shrubs,  like  river  banks ; and 
there  are  green  knolls  like  islets.  All  these  verdant 
elevations  rise  from  spaces  of  pale  yellow  sand,  smooth 
as  a surface  of  silk  and  miming  the  curves  and  me- 
anderings  of  a river  course.  These  sanded  spaces 
are  not  to  be  trodden  upon  ; they  are  much  too  beau- 
tiful for  that.  The  least  speck  of  dirt  would  mar 
their  effect ; and  it  requires  the  trained  skill  of  an 
experienced  native  gardener  — a delightful  old  man 
he  is  — to  keep  them  in  perfect  form.  But  they  are 
traversed  in  various  directions  by  lines  of  flat  unhewn 
rock  slabs,  placed  at  slightly  irregular  distances  from 
one  another,  exactly  like  stepping-stones  across  a 
brook.  The  whole  effect  is  that  of  the  shores  of  a 
still  stream  in  some  lovely,  lonesome,  drowsy  place. 

There  is  nothing  to  break  the  illusion,  so  secluded 
the  garden  is.  High  walls  and  fences  shut  out  streets 
and  contiguous  things  ; and  the  shrubs  and  the  trees, 
heightening  and  thickening  toward  the  boundaries, 
conceal  from  view  even  the  roofs  of  the  neighboring 
katchiu-yashiki.  Softly  beautiful  are  the  tremulous 
shadows  of  leaves  on  the  sunned  sand ; and  the  scent 
of  flowers  comes  thinly  sweet  with  every  waft  of  tepid 
air ; and  there  is  a humming  of  bees. 


IV. 

By  Buddhism  all  existences  are  divided  into  Hijo, 
things  without  desire,  such  as  stones  and  trees ; and 
Ujd,  things  having  desire,  such  as  men  and  animals. 
This  division  does  not,  so  far  as  I know,  find  expres- 
sion in  the  written  philosophy  of  gardens  ; but  it  is  a 

common  expression  shachihoko  dai,  signifying  " to  stand  on  one’s 
head.” 


352  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


convenient  one.  The  folk-lore  of  my  little  domain 
relates  both  to  the  inanimate  and  the  animate.  In 
natural  order,  the  Hijo  may  be  considered  first,  begin- 
ning with  a singular  shrub  near  the  entrance  of  the 
yashiki,  and  close  to  the  gate  of  the  first  garden. 

Within  tlie  front  gateway  of  almost  every  old 
samurai  house,  and  usually  near  the  entrance  of  the 
dwelling  itself,  there  is  to  be  seen  a small  tree  with 
large  and  peculiar  leaves.  The  name  of  this  tree  in 
Izuino  is  tegashiwa,  and  there  is  one  beside  my  door. 
What  the  scientific  name  of  it  is  I do  not  know ; nor 
am  I quite  sure  of  the  etymology  of  the  Japanese 
name.  However,  there  is  a word  tegashi,  meaning  a 
bond  for  the  hands  *,  and  the  shape  of  the  leaves  of 
the  tegashiwa  somewhat  resembles  the  shape  of  a 
hand. 

Now,  in  old  days,  when  the  samurai  retainer  was 
obliged  to  leave  his  home  in  order  to  accompany  his 
daimyo  to  Yedo,  it  was  customary,  just  before  his 
departure,  to  set  before  him  a baked  tai  ^ served  up 
on  a tegashiwa  leaf.  After  this  farewell  repast,  the 
leaf  upon  which  the  tai  had  been  served  was  hung  up 
above  the  door  as  a charm  to  bring  the  departed 
knight  safely  back  again.  This  pretty  superstition 
about  the  leaves  of  the  tegashiwa  had  its  origin  not 
only  in  their  shape  but  in  their  movement.  Stirred 
by  a wind  they  seemed  to  beckon,  — not  indeed  after 
our  Occidental  manner,  but  in  the  way  that  a Jap- 
anese signs  to  his  friend  to  come,  by  gently  waving 
his  hand  up  and  down  with  the  palm  towards  the 
ground. 

^ The  magnificent  perch  called  tai  (Serranus  marginalis),  which  is 
very  common  along  the  Izumo  coast,  is  not  only  justly  prized  as  the 
most  delicate  of  Japanese  fish,  but  is  also  held  to  be  an  emblem  of 


IN  A JAPANESE  GARDEN. 


353 


Another  shrub  to  be  found  in  most  Japanese 
gardens  is  the  nanten,^  about  which  a very  curious 
belief  exists.  If  you  have  an  evil  dream,  a dream 
which  bodes  ill  luck,  you  should  whisper  it  to  the 
nanten  early  in  the  morning,  and  then  it  will  never 
come  true.2  There  are  two  varieties  of  this  graceful 
])hint : one  which  bears  red  berries,  and  one  which 
bears  white.  The  latter  is  rare.  Both  kinds  grow 
in  my  garden.  The  common  variety  is  placed  close 
to  the  veranda  (perhaps  for  the  convenience  of  dream- 
ers) ; the  other  occupies  a little  flower-bed  in  the 
middle  of  the  garden,  together  with  a small  citron- 
tree.  This  most  dainty  citron-tree  is  called  “ Bud- 
dha’s fingers,”®  because  of  the  wonderful  shape  of  its 
fragrant  fruits.  Near  it  stands  a kind  of  laurel,  with 
lanciforin  leaves  glossy  as  bronze ; it  is  called  by  the 

good  fortune.  It  is  a ceremonial  gift  at  weddings  and  on  congratu- 
latory occasions.  The  Japanese  call  it  also  “ the  king  of  fishes.” 

1 Nandina  domestica. 

2 The  mo,st  lucky  of  all  dreams,  they  say  in  Izumo,  is  a dream  of 
Fuji,  the  Sacred  Mountain.  Next  in  order  of  good  omen  is  dreaming 
of  a falcon  (taka).  The  third  best  subject  for  a dream  is  the  egg- 
plant (nasubi).  Po  dream  of  the  sun  or  of  the  moon  is  very  lucky ; 
but  it  is  still  more  so  to  dream  of  stars.  For  a young  wife  it  is  most 
fortunate  to  dream  of  swallowing  a star:  this  signifies  that  she  will 
become  the  mother  of  a beautiful  child.  To  dream  of  a cow  is  a good 
omen  ; to  dream  of  a horse  is  lucky,  but  it  signifies  trayeling.  To 
dream  of  rain  or  fire  is  good.  Some  dreams  are  held  in  Japan,  as  in 
the  est,  ” to  go  by  contraries.”  Therefore  to  dream  of  haying  one’s 
house  burned  up,  or  of  funerals,  or  of  being  dead,  or  of  talking  to  the 
ghost  of  a dead  person,  is  good.  Some  dreams  which  are  good  for 
women  mean  the  reyerse  when  dreamed  by  men  ; for  example,  it  is 
good  for  a woman  to  dream  that  her  nose  bleeds,  but  for  a man  this 
is  yery  bad.  To  dream  of  much  money  is  a sign  of  loss  to  come.  To 
dream  of  the  koi,  or  of  any  fresh-water  fish,  is  the  most  unlucky  of 
all.  This  is  curious,  for  in  other  parts  of  Japan  the  koi  is  a sym- 
bol of  good  fortune. 

* Tebushukan  ; Citrus  sarkodactilis. 


354  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


Japanese  yuzuri-haj  and  is  almost  as  common  in  the 
gardens  of  old  samurai  homes  as  the  tegashiwa  itself. 
It  is  held  to  be  a tree  of  good  omen,  because  no  one 
of  its  old  leaves  ever  falls  off  before  a new  one,  grow- 
ing behind  it,  has  well  developed.  For  thus  the  yuzuri- 
ha  symbolizes  hope  that  the  father  will  not  pass  away 
before  his  son  has  become  a vigorous  man,  well  able 
to  succeed  him  as  the  head  of  the  family.  Therefore, 
on  every  New  Year’s  Day  the  leaves  of  the  yuzuri-ha, 
mingled  with  fronds  of  fern,  are  attached  to  the 
shimenawa  which  is  then  suspended  before  every 
Izumo  home. 

V. 

The  trees,  like  the  shrubs,  have  their  curious  poetry 
and  legends.  Like  the  stones,  each  tree  has  its  special 
landscape  name  according  to  its  position  and  purpose 
in  the  composition.  Just  as  rocks  and  stones  form 
the  skeleton  of  the  ground-plan  of  a garden,  so  pines 
form  the  fi'amewoi’k  of  its  foliage  design.  They  give 
body  to  the  whole.  In  this  garden  there  are  five  pines, 
— not  pines  tormented  into  fantasticalities,  but  pines 
made  wonclrously  picturesque  by  long  and  tireless 
care  and  judicious  trimming.  The  object  of  the 
gardener  has  been  to  develop  to  the  utmost  possible 
degree  their  natural  tendency  to  rugged  line  and 
massings  of  foliage,  — that  spiny  sombre-green  foli- 
age which  Japanese  art  is  never  weary  of  imitating 
in  metal  inlay  or  golden  lacquer.  The  pine  is  a sym- 
bolic tree  in  this  land  of  symbolism.  Ever  green,  it 
is  at  once  the  emblem  of  unflinching  purpose  and  of 
vigorous  old  age  ; and  its  needle-shaped  leaves  are 
credited  with  the  power  of  driving  demons  away. 

^ Yuzuru  signifies  to  resign  in  favor  of  another  ; ha  signifies  a leaf. 
The  botanical  name,  as  given  in  Hepburn's  dictionary,  is  DaphniphiU 
lum  macropodum. 


IN  A JAPANESE  GARDEN. 


355 


There  are  two  sakuranoki,^  Japanese  cherry-trees, 
— those  trees  whose  blossoms,  as  Professor  Chamber- 
lain  so  justly  observes,  are  “ beyond  comparison  more 
lovely  than  anything  Europe  has  to  show.”  Many 
varieties  are  cultivated  and  loved ; those  in  my  gar- 
den bear  blossoms  of  the  most  ethereal  pink,  a flushed 
white.  When,  in  spring,  the  trees  flower,  it  is  as 
though  fleeciest  masses  of  cloud  faintly  tinged  by  sun- 
set had  floated  down  from  the  highest  sky  to  fold 
themselves  about  the  branches.  This  comparison  is 
no  poetical  exaggeration  ; neither  is  it  original : it  is 
an  ancient  Japanese  description  of  the  most  marvel- 
ous floral  exhibition  which  nature  is  capable  of 
making.  The  reader  who  has  never  seen  a cherry- 
tree  blossoming  in  Japan  cannot  possibly  imagine  the 
delight  of  the  spectacle.  There  are  no  green  leaves  ; 
these  come  later  : there  is  only  one  glorious  burst  of 
blossoms,  veiling  every  twig  and  bough  in  their  deli- 
cate mist ; and  the  soil  beneath  each  tree  is  covered 
deep  out  of  sight  by  fallen  petals  as  by  a drift  of 
pink  snow. 

Hut  these  are  cultivated  cherry-trees.  There  are 
others  which  put  forth  their  leaves  before  their 
blossoms,  such  us  the  yamazakura,  or  mountain 
cherr^^2  This  too,  however,  has  its  poetr}”^  of  beauty 
and  of  symbolism.  Sang  the  great  Shinto  writer  and 
poet,  Motowori : — 

1 Cerasus  pseudo<erasus  (Lindley). 

* About  this  mountain  cherry  there  is  a humorous  saying  which 
illustrates  the  .Japanese  love  of  puns.  In  order  fully  to  appreciate  it, 
the  reader  should  know  that  .Japanese  nouns  have  no  distinction  of 
singular  and  plural.  The  word  ha,  as  pronounced,  may  signify  either 
“ leaves  ” or  “ teeth  ; ” and  the  word  hana,  either  “ flowers  ” or  “ nose.” 
The  yamazakura  puts  forth  its  ha  (leaves)  before  its  hana  (flowers). 
Wherefore  a man  whose  ha  (teeth)  project  in  advance  of  his  hana 
(nose)  is  called  a yamazakura.  Prognathism  is  not  uncommon  in 
Japan,  especially  among  the  lower  classes. 


356  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


Shikishima  no 

Yamato-gokoro  wo 
IIt»04ou  •aha, 

Asa-lii  ni  niou 
Yamazakura  bana.^ 

Whether  cultivated  or  uncultivated,  the  Japanese 
cherry-trees  are  emblems.  Those  planted  in  old 
samurai  gardens  were  not  cherished  for  their  loveli- 
ness alone.  Their  spotless  blossoms  were  regarded 
as  symbolizing  that  delicacy  of  sentiment  and  blarae- 
lessness  of  life  belonging  to  high  courtesy  and  true 
knightliness.  “As  the  cherry  flower  is  first  among 
flowers,”  says  an  old  proverb,  “ so  should  the  warrior 
be  first  among  men.” 

Shadowing  the  western  end  of  this  garden,  and 
projecting  its  smooth  dark  limbs  above  the  awning  of 
the  veranda,  is  a superb  umenoki,  Japanese  plum-tree, 
very  old,  and  originally  planted  here,  no  doubt,  as  in 
other  gardens,  for  the  sake  of  tbe  sight  of  its  blossom- 
ing. The  flowering  of  the  umenoki,^  in  the  earliest 
spring,  is  scarcely  less  astonishing  than  that  of  the 
cherry-tree,  which  does  not  bloom  for  a full  month 
later ; and  the  blossoming  of  both  is  celebrated  by 
popular  holidays.  Nor  are  these,  although,  the  most 
famed,  the  only  flowers  thus  loved.  The  wistaria, 
the  convolvulus,  the  peony,  each  in  its  season,  form 
displays  of  efflorescence  lovely  enough  to  draw  whole 
populations  out  of  the  cities  into  the  country  to  see 
them.  In  Izumo,  the  blossoming  of  the  peony  is 
especially  marvelous.  The  most  famous  place  for  this 
spectacle  is  the  little  island  of  Daikonshima,  in  the 

1 “If  one  should  ask  you  concerning  the  heart  of  a true  Japanese, 
point  to  the  wild  cherry  flower  glowing  in  the  sun.” 

■■2  There  are  three  noteworthy  varieties : one  bearing  red,  one  pink 
and  white,  and  one  pure  white  flowers. 


IN  A JAPANESE  GARDEN. 


357 


grand  Naka-umi  lagoon,  about  an  hour’s  sail  from 
Matsue.  In  May  the  whole  island  flames  crimson 
with  peonies;  and  even  the  boys  and  girls  of  the 
public  schools  are  given  a holiday,  in  order  that  they 
may  enjoy  the  sight. 

Though  the  plum  flower  is  certainly  a rival  in 
beauty  of  the  sakura-no-hana,  the  Japanese  compare 
woman’s  beauty  — physical  beauty  — to  the  cherry 
flower,  never  to  the  plum  flower.  But  womanly 
virtue  and  sweetness,  on  the  other  hand,  are  com- 
pared to  the  ume  - no  - hana,  never  to  the  cherry 
blossom.  It  is  a great  mistake  to  affirm,  as  some 
writers  have  done,  that  the  Japanese  never  think  of 
comparing  a woman  to  trees  and  flowers.  For  grace, 
a maiden  is  likened  to  a slender  willow  ; ^ for  youthful 
charm,  to  the  cherry-tree  in  flower ; for  sweetness  of 
heart,  to  the  blossoming  plum-tree.  Nay,  the  old  Jap- 
anese poets  have  compared  woman  to  all  beautiful 
things.  They  have  even  sought  similes  from  flowers 
for  her  various  poses,  for  her  movements,  as  in  the 
verse,  — 

Tateba  shakuyakv ; ^ 

Suwareba  botan ; 

Aruku  sugatawa 
Ilimeyuri  * no  hana.* 

Why,  even  the  names  of  the  humblest  country 
girls  are  often  those  of  beautiful  trees  or  flowers  pre- 

^ The  expression  yanagi.goshi,  “ a willow-waist,”  is  one  of  several  in 
common  use  comparing  slender  beauty  to  the  willow-tree. 

2 Peonia  albijlora.  The  name  signifies  the  delicacy  of  beauty.  The 
simile  of  the  botan  (the  tree  peony)  can  be  fully  appreciated  only  by 
one  who  is  acquainted  with  the  .Japanese  flower. 

8 Some  say  keshiyuri  (poppy)  instead  of  himeynri.  The  latter  is  a 
graceful  species  of  lily,  Lilium  callosum. 

* “ Standing,  she  is  a shakuyaku ; seated,  she  is  a botan ; and  the 
charm  of  her  figure  in  walking  is  the  charm  of  a himeyuri.” 


358  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


fixed  by  the  honorific  0:^  0-Matsu  (Pine),  0-Tak^ 
(Bamboo),  0-Um4  (Plum),  0-Hana  (Blossom), 
0-In^  (Ear-of-Young-Rice),  not  to  speak  of  the  pro- 
fessional flower-names  of  dancing-girls  and  of  joro. 
It  has  been  argued  with  considerable  force  that  the 
origin  of  certain  tree-names  borne  by  girls  must  be 
sought  in  the  folk-conception  of  the  tree  as  an  em- 
blem of  longevity,  or  happiness,  or  good  fortune, 
rather  than  in  any  popular  idea  of  the  beauty  of  the 
tree  in  itself.  But  however  this  may  be,  proverb, 
poem,  song,  and  popular  speech  to-day  yield  ample 
proof  that  the  Japanese  comparisons  of  women  to 
trees  and  flowers  are  in  no  wise  inferior  to  our  own 
in  gesthetic  sentiment. 


VI. 

That  trees,  at  least  Japanese  trees,  have  souls,  can- 
not seem  an  unnatural  fancy  to  one  who  has  seen  the 
blossoming  of  the  umenoki  and  the  sakuranoki.  This 
is  a popular  belief  in  Izumo  and  elsewhere.  It  is  not 
in  accord  with  Buddhist  philosophy,  and  yet  in  a 
certain  sense  it  strikes  one  as  being  much  closer  to 
cosmic  truth  than  the  old  Western  orthodox  notion 
of  trees  as  “ things  created  for  the  use  of  man.” 
Furthermore,  there  exist  several  odd  superstitions 
about  particular  trees,  not  unlike  certain  West  Indian 
beliefs  which  have  had  a good  influence  in  checking 
the  destruction  of  valuable  timber.  Japan,  like  the 
tropical  world,  has  its  goblin  trees.  Of  these,  the 
enoki  (^Celtis  Willdenowiana)  and  the  yanagi  (droop- 

1 In  the  higher  classes  of  Japanese  society  to-day,  the  honorific  O 
is  not,  as  a rule,  used  before  the  names  of  girls,  and  showy  appella- 
tions are  not  given  to  daughters.  Even  among  the  poor  respectable 
classes,  names  resembling  those  of  geisha,  etc.,  are  in  disfavor.  But 
those  above  cited  are  good,  honest,  every-day  names. 


IN  A JAPANESE  GARDEN. 


359 


ing  willow)  are  deemed  especially  ghostly,  and  are 
rarely  now  to  be  found  in  old  Japanese  gardens. 
Both  are  believed  to  have  the  power  of  haunting. 
'‘’•Enoki  ga  hake.ru^'  the  Izumo  saying  is.  You  will 
find  in  a Japanese  dictionary  the  word  “ bakeru  ” 
translated  by  such  terms  as  “ to  be  transformed,”  “to 
be  metamorphosed,”  “ to  be  changed,”  etc. ; but  the 
belief  about  these  trees  is  very  singular,  and  cannot 
be  explained  by  any  such  rendering  of  the  verb  “ ba- 
keru.” The  tree  itself  does  not  change  form  or  place, 
but  a spectre  called  Ki-no  o-bake  disengages  itself 
from  the  tree  and  walks  about  in  various  guises.^ 
Most  often  the  shape  assumed  by  the  phantom  is  that 
of  a beautiful  woman.  The  tree  spectre  seldom 
speaks,  and  seldom  ventures  to  go  veiy  far  away  from 
its  tree.  If  approached,  it  immediately  shrinks  back 
into  the  trunk  or  the  foliage.  It  is  said  that  if  either 
an  old  yanagi  or  a young  enoki  be  cut  blood  will  flow 
from  the  gash.  When  such  trees  are  very  young  it 
is  not  believed  that  they  have  supernatural  habits, 
but  they  become  more  dangerous  the  older  they 
grow. 

There  is  a rather  pretty  legend  — recalling  the  old 
Greek  dream  of  dryads  — about  a willow-tree  which 
grew  in  the  garden  of  a samurai  of  Kyoto.  Owing 
to  its  weird  reputation,  the  tenant  of  the  homestead 

1 Mr.  Satow  has  found  in  Ilirata  a belief  to  which  this  seems  to 
some  extent  akin,  — the  curious  Shinto  doctrine  “according  to  which 
a divine  being  throws  off  portions  of  itself  by  a process  of  fis,sure,  thus 
producing  what  are  called  waki-mi-tama,  — parted  spirits,  with  sepa- 
rate functions.”  The  great  god  of  Izumo,  Oho-kuni-nushi-no-Kami, 
is  said  by  Hirata  to  have  three  such  “ parted  spirits  ; ” his  rough 
spirit  [ara-mUama)  that  punishes,  his  gentle  spirit  (nigi-mUama)  that 
panlous,  and  his  benedictory  or  beneficent  spirit  (saki-mi-tama)  that 
blesses.  There  is  a Shinto  story  that  the  rough  spirit  of  this  god  once 
met  the  gentle  spirit  witliout  recognizing  it. 

VOL.  n. 


360  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


desired  to  cut  it  down  ; but  another  samurai  dissuaded 
him,  saying : “ Rather  sell  it  to  me,  that  I may  plant 
it  in  my  garden.  That  tree  has  a soul ; it  were 
cruel  to  destroy  its  life.”  Thus  purchased  and  trans- 
planted, the  yanagi  flourished  well  in  its  new  home, 
and  its  spirit,  out  of  gratitude,  took  the  form  of  a 
beautiful  woman,  and  became  the  wife  of  the  samurai 
who  had  befriended  it.  A charming  boy  was  the 
result  of  this  union.  A few  years  later,  the  daimyo 
to  whom  the  ground  belonged  gave  orders  that  the 
tree  should  be  cut  down.  Then  the  wife  wept  bit- 
terly, and  for  the  flrst  time  revealed  to  her  husband 
the  whole  storj\  “ And  now,”  she  added,  “ I know 
that  I must  die ; but  our  child  will  live,  and  you  will 
alwa5'^s  love  him.  This  thought  is  my  only  solace.” 
Vainly  the  astonished  and  terrifled  husband  sought 
to  retain  her.  Bidding  him  farewell  forever,  she 
vanished  into  the  tree.  Needless  to  say  that  the 
samurai  did  everything  in  his  power  to  persuade  the 
daimyo  to  forego  his  purpose.  The  prince  wanted 
the  tree  for  the  reparation  of  a great  Buddhist  tem- 
ple, the  San-jiu-san-gen-do.^  The  tree  was  felled, 
but,  having  fallen,  it  suddenly  became  so  heavy  that 
three  hundred  men  could  not  move  it.  Then  the 
child,  taking  a branch  in  his  little  hand,  said, 
“ Come,”  and  the  tree  followed  him,  gliding  along 
the  ground  to  the  court  of  the  temple. 

Although  said  to  be  a bakemono-ki,  the  enoki  some- 
times receives  highest  religious  honors ; for  the  spirit 
of  the  god  Kojin,  to  whom  old  dolls  are  dedicated, 
is  supposed  to  dwell  within  certain  very  ancient 

^ Perhaps  the  most  impressive  of  all  the  Buddhist  temples  in 
Kyoto.  It  is  dedicated  to  Kwaniion  of  the  Thousand  Hands,  and  is 
said  to  contain  33,333  of  her  images. 


IN  A JAPANESE  GARDEN.  361 

enoki  trees,  and  before  these  are  placed  shrines 
whereat  people  make  prayers. 


vn. 

The  second  garden,  on  the  north  side,  is  my  favor- 
ite. It  contains  no  large  growths.  It  is  paved  with 
blue  pebbles,  and  its  centre  is  occupied  by  a pondlet, 
— a miniature  lake  fringed  with  rare  plants,  and  con- 
taining a tiny  island,  with  tiny  mountains  and  dwarf 
peach-trees  and  pines  and  azaleas,  some  of  which  are 
perhaps  more  than  a century  old,  though  scarcely 
more  than  a foot  high.  Nevertheless,  this  work,  seen 
as  it  was  intended  to  be  seen,  does  not  appear  to  the 
eye  in  miniature  at  all.  From  a certain  angle  of  the 
guest-room  looking  out  upon  it,  the  appearance  is 
that  of  a real  lake  shore  with  a real  island  beyond  it, 
a stone’s  throw  away.  So  cunning  the  art  of  the 
ancient  gardener  who  contrived  all  this,  and  who  has 
been  sleeping  for  a hundred  years  under  the  cedars 
of  Gesshoji,  that  the  illusion  can  be  detected  only 
from  the  zashiki  by  the  presence  of  an  ishidoro,  or 
stone  lamp,  upon  the  island.  The  size  of  the  ishidoro 
betrays  the  false  pei'spective,  and  I do  not  think  it 
was  placed  there  when  the  garden  was  made. 

Here  and  there  at  the  edge  of  the  pond,  and  almost 
level  with  the  water,  are  placed  large  flat  stones,  on 
which  one  may  either  stand  or  squat,  to  watch  the 
lacustrine  population  or  to  tend  the  water-plants. 
There  are  beautiful  water-lilies,  whose  bright  green 
leaf-disks  float  oilily  upon  the  surface  (^Nuphar  Ja- 
ponica).,  and  many  lotus  plants  of  two  kinds,  those 
which  bear  pink  and  those  which  bear  pure  white 
flowers.  There  are  iris  plants  growing  along  the 
bank,  whose  blossoms  are  prismatic  violet,  and  there 


362  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


are  various  ornamental  grasses  and  ferns  and  mosses. 
But  the  pond  is  essentially  a lotus  pond ; the  lotus 
plants  make  its  greatest  charm.  It  is  a delight  to 
watch  every  phase  of  their  marvelous  growth,  from 
the  first  unrolling  of  the  leaf  to  the  fall  of  the  last 
flower.  On  rainy  days,  especially,  the  lotus  plants 
are  worth  observing.  Their  great  cnp-sliaped  leaves, 
swaying  high  above  the  pond,  catch  the  rain  and  hold 
it  a while ; but  always  after  the  water  in  the  leaf 
reaches  a certain  level  the  stem  bends,  and  empties  the 
leaf  with  a loud  plash,  and  then  straightens  again. 
Rain-water  upon  a lotus -leaf  is  a favorite  subject 
with  Japanese  metal-workers,  and  metal-work  only 
can  reproduce  the  effect,  for  the  motion  and  color  of 
water  moving  upon  the  green  oleaginous  surface  are 
exactly  those  of  quicksilver. 

VIII. 

The  third  garden,  which  is  very  large,  extends  be- 
yond the  inclosure  containing  the  lotus  pond  to  the 
foot  of  the  wooded  hills  which  form  the  northern  and 
northeastern  boundary  of  this  old  samurai  quarter. 
Formerly  all  this  broad  level  space  was  occupied  by 
a bamboo  grove ; but  it  is  now  little  more  than  a 
waste  of  grasses  and  wild  flowers.  In  the  northeast 
corner  there  is  a magnificent  well,  from  which  ice-cold 
water  is  brought  into  the  house  through  a most  in- 
genious little  aqueduct  of  bamboo  pipes  ; and  in  the 
northwestern  end,  veiled  by  tall  weeds,  there  stands 
a very  small  stone  shrine  of  Inari,  with  two  propor- 
tionately small  stone  foxes  sitting  before  it.  Shrine 
and  images  are  chipped  and  broken,  and  thickly 
patched  with  dark  green  moss.  But  on  the  east  side 
of  the  house  one  little  square  of  soil  belonging  to  this 


IN  A JAPANESE  GARDEN. 


363 


large  division  of  the  garden  is  still  cultivated.  It  is 
devoted  entirely  to  chrysanthemum  plants,  which  are 
shielded  from  heavy  rain  and  strong  sun  by  slanting 
frames  of  light  wood  fashioned  like  shoji,  with  panes 
of  white  paper,  and  supported  like  awnings  upon  thin 
posts  of  bamboo.  I can  venture  to  add  nothing  to 
what  has  already  been  written  about  these  marvelous 
products  of  Japanese  floriculture  considered  in  them- 
selves ; but  there  is  a little  story  relating  to  chrysan- 
themums which  I may  presume  to  tell. 

There  is  one  place  in  Japan  where  it  is  thought 
unlucky  to  cultivate  chrysanthemums,  for  reasons 
which  shall  presently  appear  ; and  that  place  is  in  the 
pretty  little  city  of  Himeji,  in  the  province  of  Harima. 
Himeji  contains  the  ruins  of  a great  castle  of  thirty 
turrets ; and  a daimyo  used  to  dwell  therein  whose 
revenue  was  one  hundred  and  fifty-six  thousand  koku 
of  rice.  Now,  in  the  house  of  one  of  that  daimyo’s 
chief  retainers  there  was  a maid-servant,  of  good 
family,  whose  name  was  0-Kiku ; and  the  name 
“ Kiku  ” signifies  a chrysanthemum  flower.  Many 
precious  things  were  intrusted  to  her  charge,  and 
among  others  ten  costly  dishes  of  gold.  One  of  these 
was  suddenly  missed,  and  could  not  be  found ; and 
the  girl,  being  responsible  therefor,  and  knowing 
not  how  otherwise  to  prove  her  innocence,  drowned 
herself  in  a well.  But  ever  thereafter  her  ghost, 
returning  nightly,  could  be  heard  counting  the  dishes 
slowly,  with  sobs  : — 

Ichi-mai,  Yo-mai,  Shichi-mai, 

Ni-mai,  Go-mai,  Hachi-mai, 

San-mai,  Roku-mai,  Ku-mai  — 

Then  would  be  heard  a despairing  cry  and  a loud 


364  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


burst  of  weeping ; and  again  tbe  girl’s  voice  counting 
the  dishes  plaintively  : “ One  — two  — three  — four 
— five  — six  — seven  — eight  — nine  ” — 

Her  spirit  passed  into  the  body  of  a strange  little 
insect,  whose  head  faintly  resembles  that  of  a ghost 
with  long  disheveled  hair ; and  it  is  called  0-Kiku- 
mushi,  or  “ the  fly  of  0-Kiku;  ” and  it  is  found,  they 
say,  nowhere  save  in  Hiineji.  A famous  play  was 
written  about  0-Kiku,  which  is  still  acted  in  all  the 
popular  theatres,  entitled  Banshu-O-Kiku-no-Sara-ya- 
shiki ; or.  The  Manor  of  the  Dish  of  0-Kiku  of 
Banshu. 

Some  declare  that  Banshu  is  only  the  corruption  of 
the  name  of  an  ancient  quarter  of  Tokyo  (Yedo), 
where  the  story  should  have  been  laid.  But  the  peo- 
ple of  Himeji  say  that  part  of  their  city  now  called 
Go-Ken-Yashiki  is  identical  with  the  site  of  the  an- 
cient manor.  What  is  certainly  true  is  that  to  culti- 
vate chrysanthemum  flowers  in  the  part  of  Himeji 
called  Go-Ken-Yashiki  is  deemed  unlucky,  because 
the  name  of  0-Kiku  signifies  “ Chrysanthemum,” 
Therefore,  nobody,  I am  told,  ever  cultivates  chry- 
santhemums there. 

IX. 

Now  of  the  ujo,  or  things  having  desire,  which  in- 
habit these  gardens. 

There  are  four  species  of  frogs : three  that  dwell  in 
the  lotus  pond,  and  one  that  lives  in  the  trees.  The 
tree  frog  is  a very  pretty  little  creature,  exquisitely 
gl’een ; it  has  a shrill  cry,  almost  like  the  note  of  a 
semi  ; and  it  is  called  amagaeru,  or  “ the  rain  frog,” 
because,  like  its  kindred  in  other  countries,  its  croak- 
ing is  an  omen  of  rain.  The  pond  frogs  are  called 
babagaeru,  shinagaeru,  and  Tono-san-gaeru,  Of  these, 


IN  A JAPANESE  GARDEN. 


365 


the  fii’st  named  variety  is  the  largest  and  the  ugliest : 
its  color  is  very  disagreeable,  and  its  full  name 
(“  babagaeru  ” being  a decent  abbreviation)  is  quite 
as  offensive  as  its  hue.  The  shinagaeru,  or  “striped 
frog,”  is  not  handsome,  except  by  comparison  with 
the  previously  mentioned  creature.  But  the  Tono- 
san-gaeru,  so  called  after  a famed  daimyo  who  left 
behind  him  a memory  of  great  splendor,  is  beautiful : 
its  color  is  a fine  bronze-red. 

Besides  these  varieties  of  frogs  there  lives  in  the 
garden  a huge  uncouth  goggle-eyed  thing  which,  al- 
though called  here  hikigaeru,  I take  to  be  a toad.  “ Ili- 
kigaeru  ” is  the  term  ordinarily  used  for  a bullfrog. 
This  creature  enters  the  house  almost  daily  to  be 
fed,  and  seems  to  have  no  fear  even  of  strangers.  My 
people  consider  it  a luck-bringing  visitor;  and  it  is 
credited  with  the  power  of  drawing  all  the  mosquitoes 
out  of  a room  into  its  mouth  by  simply  sucking  its 
breath  in.  Much  as  it  is  cherished  by  gardenei's  and 
others,  there  is  a legend  about  a goblin  toad  of  old 
times,  which,  by  thus  sucking  in  its  breath,  drew  into 
its  mouth,  not  insects,  but  men. 

The  pond  is  inhabited  also  by  many  small  fish ; 
imori,  or  newts,  with  bright  red  bellies;  and  multi- 
tudes of  little  water-beetles,  called  maimaimushi, 
Avhich  pass  their  whole  time  in  gyrating  upon  the 
surface  of  the  water  so  rapidly  that  it  is  almost  im- 
possible to  distinguish  their  shape  clearly.  A man 
who  runs  about  aimlessly  to  and  fro,  under  the  influ- 
ence of  excitement,  is  compared  to  a maimaimushi. 
And  there  are  some  beautiful  snails,  with  vellow 
stripes  on  their  shells.  Japanese  children  have  a 
charm-song  which  is  supposed  to  have  power  to  make 
the  snail  put  out  its  horns  : — 


366  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR.  JAPAN. 


Daidaimttshi daidahmtshi,  tsuno  chitto  dashare! 

Arne  kaze  fuku  kara  tsuno  chitto  dashare  ! 

The  playground  of  the  children  of  the  better 
classes  has  always  been  the  family  garden,  as  that  of 
the  children  of  the  poor  is  the  temple  court.  It  is  in 
the  garden  that  the  little  ones  first  learn  something 
of  the  wonderful  life  of  plants  and  the  marvels  of  the 
insect  world  ; and  there,  also,  they  are  first  taught 
those  pretty  legends  and  songs  about  birds  and  flowers 
which  form  so  charming  a part  of  Japanese  folk-lore. 
As  the  home  training  of  the  child  is  left  mostly  to  the 
mother,  lessons  of  kindness  to  animals  are  early  incul- 
cated; and  the  results  are  strongly  marked  in  after 
life.  It  is  true,  Japanese  children  are  not  entirely 
free  from  that  unconscious  tendency  to  cruelty  char- 
acteristic of  children  in  all  countries,  as  a survival  of 
primitive  instincts.  But  in  this  regard  the  great 
moral  difi:‘erence  between  the  sexes  is  strongly  marked 
from  the  earliest  years.  The  tenderness  of  the  woman- 
soul  appears  even  in  the  child.  Little  Japanese  girls 
who  play  with  insects  or  small  animals  rarely  hurt 
them,  and  generally  set  them  free  after  they  have 
afforded  a reasonable  amount  of  amusement.  Little 
boys  are  not  nearly  so  good,  when  out  of  sight  of 
parents  or  guardians.  But  if  seen  doing  anything 
cruel,  a child  is  made  to  feel  ashamed  of  the  act,  and 
hears  the  Buddhist  warning,  “ Thy  future  birth  will 
be  unhappy,  if  thou  dost  cruel  things.” 

Somewhere  among  the  rocks  in  the  pond  lives  a 
small  tortoise,  — left  in  the  garden,  probably,  by  the 

^ Daidaimushi  in  Izunio.  The  dictionary  word  is  dedemushi.  The 
snail  is  supposed  to  be  very  fond  of  wet  weather ; and  one  who  goes 
out  much  iu  the  rain  is  compared  to  a snail,  — dedemushi  no  yona. 

^ “ Snail,  snail,  put  out  your  horns  a little  : it  rains  and  the  wind  is 
blowing,  so  put  out  your  horns,  just  for  a little  while.” 


IN  A JAPANESE  GARDEN. 


367 


previous  tenants  of  the  house.  It  is  very  pretty,  but 
manages  to  remain  invisible  for  weeks  at  a time.  In 
popular  mythology,  the  tortoise  is  the  servant  of  the 
divinity  Kompira ; ^ and  if  a pious  fisherman  finds  a 
tortoise,  he  writes  upon  his  back  characters  signifying 
“ Servant  of  the  Deity  Kompira,”  and  then  gives  it  a 
drink  of  sake  and  sets  it  free.  It  is  supposed  to  be 
very  fond  of  sake. 

Some  say  that  the  land  tortoise,  or  “stone  tor- 
toise,” only,  is  the  servant  of  Kompira,  and  the  sea 
tortoise,  or  tui’tle,  the  servant  of  the  Dragon  Empire 
beneath  the  sea.  The  turtle  is  said  to  have  the 
power  to  create,  with  its  breath,  a cloud,  a fog,  or  a 
magnificent  palace.  It  figures  in  the  beautiful  old 
folk-tale  of  Urashima.*  All  tortoises  are  supposed 
to  live  for  a thousand  years,  wherefore  one  of  the 
most  frequent  symbols  of  longevity  in  Japanese  art 
is  a tortoise.  But  the  tortoise  most  commonly  repre- 
sented by  native  painters  and  metal-workers  has  a 
peculiar  tail,  or  rather  a multitude  of  small  tails,  ex- 
tending behind  it  like  the  fringes  of  a straw  rain-coat, 
mino,  whence  it  is  called  minogam^.  Now,  some  of 
the  tortoises  kept  in  the  saci-ed  tanks  of  Buddhist 
temples  attain  a prodigious  age,  and  certain  water- 
plants  attach  themselves  to  the  creatures’  shells  and 
stream  behind  them  when  they  walk.  The  myth  of 
the  minogamd  is  supposed  to  have  had  its  origin  in 
old  artistic  efforts  to  represent  the  appearance  of 
such  tortoises  with  confervae  fastened  upon  their 
shells. 

1 A Buddhist  divinity,  but  within  recent  times  identified  by  Shinto 
with  the  god  Kotohira. 

See  Professor  Chamberlain’s  version  of  it  in  The  Japanese  Fairy- 
Tale  Series,  with  charming  illustrations  by  a native  artist. 


368  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


X. 

Early  in  summer  the  frogs  are  surprisingly  nu- 
merous, and,  after  dark,  are  noisy  beyond  description  ; 
but  week  by  week  their  nightly  clamor  grows  feebler, 
as  their  numbers  diminish  under  the  attacks  of  many 
enemies.  A large  family  of  snakes,  some  fully  three 
feet  long,  make  occasional  inroads  into  the  colony. 
The  victims  often  utter  piteous  cries,  which  are 
promptly  responded  to,  whenever  possible,  by  some 
inmate  of  the  house,  and  many  a frog  has  been  saved 
by  my  servant-girl,  who,  by  a gentle  tap  with  a 
bamboo  rod,  compels  the  snake  to  let  its  prey  go. 
These  snakes  are  beautiful  swimmers.  They  make 
themselves  quite  free  about  the  garden ; but  they 
come  out  only  on  hot  days.  None  of  my  people 
would  think  of  injuring  or  killing  one  of  them.  In- 
deed, in  Izumo  it  is  said  that  to  kill  a snake  is  un- 
lucky. “ If  you  kill  a snake  without  provocation,” 
a peasant  assured  me,  “you  will  afterwards  find  its 
head  in  the  komebitsu  [the  box  in  which  cooked  rice 
is  kept]  when  you  take  off  the  lid.” 

But  the  suakes  devour  comparatively  few  frogs. 
Impudent  kites  and  crows  are  their  most  implacable 
destroyers;  and  there  is  a very  pretty  weasel  which 
lives  under  the  kura  (godown),  and  which  does  not 
hesitate  to  take  either  fish  or  frogs  out  of  the  pond, 
even  when  the  lord  of  the  manor  is  watching.  There 
is  also  a cat  which  poaches  in  my  preserves,  a gaunt 
outlaw,  a master  thief,  which  I have  made  sundry 
vain  attempts  to  reclaim  from  vagabondage.  Partly 
because  of  the  immorality  of  this  cat,  and  partly  be- 
cause it  happens  to  have  a long  tail,  it  has  the  evil 
reputation  of  being  a nekomata,  or  goblin  cat. 


IN  A JAPANESE  GARDEN. 


369 


It  is  true  that  in  Izumo  sonae  kittens  are  born  with 
long  tails  ; but  it  is  very  seldom  that  they  are  suffered 
to  grow  up  with  long  tails.  For  the  natural  tendency 
of  cats  is  to  become  goblins ; and  this  tendency  to 
metamorphosis  can  be  checked  only  by  cutting  off 
their  tails  in  kittenhood.  Cats  are  magicians,  tails 
or  no  tails,  and  have  the  power  of  making  corpses 
dance.  Cats  are  ungrateful.  “Feed  a dog  for  three 
days,”  says  a Japanese  px'overb,  “ and  he  will  remem- 
ber your  kindness  for  three  years ; feed  a cat  for 
three  years  and  she  will  forget  your  kindness  in  three 
days.”  Cats  are  mischievous : they  tear  the  mat- 
tings, and  make  holes  in  the  shoji,  and  sharpen  their 
claws  upon  the  pillars  of  tokonoma.  Cats  are  under 
a curse : only  the  cat  and  the  venomous  serpent  wept 
not  at  the  death  of  Buddha ; and  these  shall  never 
enter  into  the  bliss  of  the  Gokuraku.  For  all  these 
reasons,  and  others  too  numerous  to  relate,  cats  are 
not  much  loved  in  Izumo,  and  are  compelled  to  pass 
the  greater  part  of  their  lives  out  of  doors. 


XI. 

Not  less  than  eleven  varieties  of  butteiHies  have 
visited  the  neighborhood  of  the  lotus  pond  within  the 
past  few  days.  The  most  common  variety  is  snowy 
white.  It  is  supposed  to  be  especially  attracted  by 
the  na,  or  rapeseed  plant ; and  when  little  girls  see 
it,  they  sing : — 

Cho-cho,  cho-cho,  na  no  ha  ni  tomare  ; 

Na  no  ha  ga  igenara,  te  ni  tomare.^ 

But  the  most  interesting  insects  are  certainly  the 
semi  (cicadae).  These  .Japanese  tree  crickets  aie 

* “ Buttei-fly,  little  buttei'fly,  light  upon  the  na  leaf.  But  if  thou  dost 
not  like  the  na  leaf,  light,  I pray  thee,  upon  my  hand.” 


370  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


much  more  extraordinary  singers  than  even  the  won- 
derful cicadse  of  the  tropics ; and  they  are  much  less 
tiresome,  for  there  is  a different  species  of  semi,  with 
a totally  different  song,  for  almost  every  month  during 
the  whole  warm  season.  There  are,  1 believe,  seven 
kinds ; but  I have  become  familiar  with  only  four. 
The  first  to  be  heard  in  my  trees  is  the  natsuzemi,  or 
summer  semi:  it  makes  a sound  like  the  Japanese 
monosyllable  ji,  beginning  wheezily,  slowly  swelling 
into  a crescendo  shrill  as  the  blowing  of  steam,  and 
dying  away  in  another  wheeze.  This  j-i-i-iiiiiiiiii  is 
so  deafening  that  when  two  or  three  natsuzemi  come 
close  to  the  window  I am  obliged  to  make  them  go 
away.  Happily  the  natsuzemi  is  soon  succeeded  by 
the  minminzeini,  a much  finer  musician,  whose  name 
is  derived  from  its  wonderful  note.  It  is  said  “to 
chant  like  a Buddhist  priest  reciting  the  kyo ; ” and 
certainly,  upon  hearing  it  the  first  time,  one  can 
scarcely  believe  that  one  is  listening  to  a mere  cicada. 
The  minminzemi  is  followed,  early  in  autumn,  by  a 
beautiful  green  semi,  the  higurashi,  which  makes 
a singularly  clear  sound,  like  the  rapid  ringing  of 
a small  bell,  — Icana-hana-kana-kana-kana.  But  the 
most  astonishing  visitor  of  all  comes  still  later,  the 
tsuku-tsuku-boshi.i  j fancy  this  creature  can  have 
no  rival  in  the  whole  world  of  cicadse : its  music  is 
exactly  like  the  song  of  a bird.  Its  name,  like  that 
of  the  minminzemi,  is  onomatopoetic ; but  in  Izumo 
the  sounds  of  its  chant  are  given  thus  : — 

Tsuku4suku  uisuj 

Tsuku-tsuku  tiisu, 

1 Boshi  means  " a hat ; ” tsnkeru,  “ to  put  on.”  Bat  this  etymology 
is  more  than  doubtful. 

2 Some  say  “ Chokka<'hokko-msu.’’  “Uisu”  would  be  pronounced 
in  English  very  much  like  “ weece,”  the  final  u being  silent.  “ Uidsu 
would  be  something  like  “ we-oce.” 


IN  A JAPANESE  GARDEN. 


371 


Tsuku-tsuku  uisu  ; — 

Ui-osti, 

Ui-osu, 

Ui-dsu, 

Ui-6s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-su. 

However,  the  serai  are  not  the  only  musicians  of 
the  garden.  Two  remarkable  creatures  aid  their 
orchestra.  The  first  is  a beautiful  bright  green 
grasshopper,  known  to  the  Japanese  by  the  curious 
name  of  hotoke-no-uma,  or  “ the  horse  of  the  dead.” 
Tliis  insect’s  head  really  bears  some  resemblance  in 
shape  to  the  head  of  a horse,  — hence  the  fancy.  It 
is  a queerly  familiar  creature,  allowing  itself  to  be 
taken  in  the  hand  without  struggling,  and  generally 
making  itself  quite  at  home  in  the  house,  which  it 
often  enters.  It  makes  a very  thin  sound,  which  the 
Japanese  write  as  a repetition  of  the  syllables ; 
and  the  name  junta  is  sometimes  given  to  the  grass- 
hopper itself.  The  other  insect  is  also  a green  grass- 
hopper, somewhat  larger,  and  much  shyer : it  is 
called  gisu,*  on  account  of  its  chant : — 

Chon, 

Gisu ; 

Chon, 

Gisu  ; 

Chon, 

Gisu ; 

Chon  ...  (ad  libitum). 

Several  lovely  species  of  dragon-flies  (tombo')  hover 
about  the  pondlet  on  hot  bright  days.  One  variety 
— the  most  beautiful  creature  of  the  kind  I ever 
saw,  gleaming  with  metallic  colors  indescribable, 
and  spectrally  slender  — is  called  Tenshi-tombo,  “the 
Emperor’s  dragon-fly.”  There  is  another,  the  largest 

1 Pronounced  almost  as  “ geece.” 


372  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


of  Japanese  dragon-flies,  but  somewhat  rare,  which  is 
much  sought  after  by  children  as  a plaything.  Of 
this  species  it  is  said  that  there  are  many  more  males 
than  females;  and  what  I can  vouch  for  as  true  is 
that,  if  you  catch  a female,  the  male  can  be  almost 
immediately  attracted  by  exposing  the  captive. 
Boys,  accordingly,  try  to  secure  a female,  and  when 
one  is  captured  they  tie  it  with  a thread  to  some 
branch,  and  sing  a curious  little  song,  of  which  these 
are  the  original  words : — 

Konna  1 dansho  Korai  o 

Adzurna  no  meto  ni  malcete 

Nigeru  wa  haji  dewa  naikai  f 

Which  signifies,  “ Thou,  the  male.  King  of  Korea, 
dost  thou  not  feel  shame  to  flee  away  from  the  Queen 
of  the  East  ? ” (This  taunt  is  an  allusion  to  the  story 
of  the  conquest  of  Korea  by  the  Empress  Jin-go.) 
And  the  male  comes  invariably,  and  is  also  caught. 
In  Izumo  the  first  seven  words  of  the  original  song 
have  been  corrupted  into  konna  unjo  Korai  ahura 
no  mito ; ” and  the  name  of  the  male  dragon-fl}^ 
unjo,  and  that  of  the  female,  mito,  are  derived  from 
two  words  of  the  corrupted  version. 


XII. 

Of  warm  nights  all  sorts  of  unbidden  guests  invade 
the  house  in  multitudes.  Two  varieties  of  mosquitoes 
do  their  utmost  to  make  life  unpleasant,  and  these 
have  learned  the  wisdom  of  not  approaching  a lamp 
too  closely ; but  hosts  of  curious  and  harmless  things 
cannot  be  prevented  from  seeking  their  death  in  the 
flame.  The  most  numerous  victims  of  all,  which 
come  thick  as  a shower  of  rain,  are  called  Sanemori. 

1 Contraction  of  kore  naru. 


IN  A JAPANESE  GARDEN.  373 

At  least  they  are  so  called  in  Izumo,  where  they  do 
much  damage  to  growing  rice. 

Now  the  name  Sanemori  is  an  illustrious  one,  that 
of  a famous  warrior  of  old  times  belonging  to  the 
Genji  clan.  There  is  a legend  that  while  he  was 
fighting  with  an  enemy  on  horseback  his  own  steed 
slipped  and  fell  in  a rice-field,  and  he  was  conse- 
quently overpowered  and  slain  by  his  antagonist. 
He  became  a rice-devouring  insect,  which  is  still  re- 
spectfully called,  by  the  peasantry  of  Izumo,  Sane- 
mori-San.  They  light  fires,  on  certain  summer  nights, 
in  the  rice-fields,  to  attract  the  insect,  and  beat  gongs 
and  sound  bamboo  flutes,  chanting  the  while,  “ O 
Sanemori,  augustly  deign  to  come  hither ! ” A kan- 
nushi  performs  a religious  rite,  and  a straw  figure 
representing  a horse  and  rider  is  then  either  burned 
or  thrown  into  a neighboring  river  or  canal.  By  this 
ceremony  it  is  believed  that  the  fields  are  cleared  of 
the  insect. 

This  tiny  creature  is  almost  exactly  the  size  and 
color  of  a rice-husk.  The  legend  concerning  it  may 
have  arisen  from  the  fact  that  its  body,  together  with 
the  wings,  bears  some  resemblance  to  the  helmet  of 
a Japanese  warrior.^ 

1 A kindred  legend  attaches  to  the  shiwan,  a little  yellow  insect 
which  prej’s  upon  cucumbers.  Tlie  shiwan  is  said  to  have  been  once 
a physician,  who,  being  detected  in  an  amorous  intrigue,  bad  to  fly 
for  his  life ; but  as  he  went  his  foot  caught  in  a cucumber  vine,  so 
that  he  fell  and  was  overtaken  and  killed,  and  his  ghost  became  an 
insect,  the  destroyer  of  cucumber  vines. 

In  tbe  zoological  mythology  and  plant  mythology  of  Japan  there 
exist  many  legends  offering  a curious  resemblance  to  the  old  Greek 
tales  of  metamorphoses.  Some  of  the  most  remarkable  bits  of  such 
folk-lore  have  originated,  however,  in  comparatively  modern  time. 
The  legend  of  the  crab  called  heikegami,  found  at  Nagato,  is  an  ex- 
ample. The  souls  of  the  Taira  warriors  who  perished  in  the  great 
naval  battle  of  Dan-no-ura  (now  Seto-Nakai),  1185,  are  supposed  to 


374  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


Next  in  number  among  the  victims  of  fire  are  the 
moths,  some  of  which  are  very  strange  and  beautiful. 
The  most  remarkable  is  an  enormous  creature  popu- 
larly called  okori-chocho,  or  the  “ ague  moth,”  be- 
cause there  is  a superstitious  belief  that  it  brings 
intermittent  fever  into  any  house  it  enters.  It  has  a 
body  quite  as  heavy  and  almost  as  powerful  as  that 
of  the  largest  humming-bird,  and  its  struggles,  when 
caught  in  tire  hand,  surprise  by  their  force.  It  makes 
a very  loud  whirring  sound  while  flying.  The  wings 
of  one  which  I examined  measured,  outspread,  five 
inches  from  tip  to  tip,  yet  seemed  small  in  proportion 
to  the  heavy  bod}\  They  were  richly  mottled  with 
dusky  browns  and  silver  grays  of  various  tones. 

Many  flying  night-comers,  however,  avoid  the 
lamp.  Most  fantastic  of  all  visitors  is  the  toro  or 
kamakiri,  called  in  Izumo  kamakake,  a bright  green 
praying  mantis,  extremely  feared  by  childi-en  for  its 
capacity  to  bite.  It  is  very  large.  I have  seen  speci- 
mens over  six  inches  long.  The  eyes  of  the  kama- 
kake are  a brilliant  black  at  night,  but  by  day  they 
appear  grass-colored,  like  the  rest  of  the  body.  The 
mantis  is  very  intelligent  and  surprisingly  aggressive. 
I saw  one  attacked  by  a vigorous  frog  easily  put  its 
enemy  to  flight.  It  fell  a prey  subsequently  to  other 
inhabitants  of  the  pond,  but  it  required  the  combined 
efforts  of  several  frogs  to  vanquish  the  monstrous  in- 
sect, and  even  then  the  battle  was  decided  only  when 
the  kamakake  had  been  dragged  into  the  water. 

Other  visitors  are  beetles  of  divers  colors,  and  a 

have  been  transformed  into  heikegami.  The  shell  of  the  heikegami 
is  certainly  surprising.  It  is  wrinkled  into  the  likeness  of  a grim  face, 
or  rather  into  exact  semblance  of  one  of  those  black  iron  visors,  or 
masks,  which  feudal  warriors  wore  in  battle,  and  which  were  shaped 
like  frowning  visages. 


IN  A JAPANESE  G A BEEN. 


375 


sort  of  small  roacli  called  goki-kaburi,  signifying 
“ one  whose  head  is  covered  with  a howl.”  It  is 
alleged  that  the  goki-kahuri  likes  to  eat  human  eyes, 
and  is  therefore  the  abhorred  enemy  of  Ichibata- 
Sama,  — Yakushi-Nyoi’ai  of  Ichibata,  — by  whom 
diseases  of  the  eye  are  healed.  To  kill  the  goki- 
kaburi  is  consequently  thought  to  be  a meritorious 
act  in  the  sight  of  this  Buddha.  Always  welcome 
are  the  beautiful  fireflies  (Jiotaru^,  which  enter  quite 
noiselessly,  and  at  once  seek  the  darkest  place  in  the 
house,  slow  - glimmering,  like  sparks  moved  by  a 
gentle  wind.  They  are  supposed  to  be  very  fond  of 
water ; wherefore  children  sing  to  them  this  little 
song : — 

Hotaru  koe  midzu  nomasho; 

Achi  no  midzu  wa  nigaizo  ; 

Kochi  no  midzu  wa  arnaizo.^ 

A pretty  gray  lizard,  quite  different  from  some 
wliich  usually  haunt  the  garden,  also  makes  its  ap- 
pearance at  night,  and  pm-sues  its  prey  along  the 
ceiling.  Sometimes  an  extraordinarily  large  centi- 
pede attempts  the  same  thing,  but  with  less  success, 
and  has  to  be  seized  with  a pair  of  fire-tongs  and 
thrown  into  the  exterior  darkness.  Very  rarely,  an 
enormous  spider  appears.  This  creature  seems  in- 
offensive. If  captured,  it  will  feign  death  until  cer- 
tain that  it  is  not  watched,  when  it  will  run  away 
with  surprising  swiftness  if  it  gets  a chance.  It 
is  Iiairless,  and  very  different  from  the  tarantula,  or 
fiikurogumo.  It  is  called  miyamagumo,  or  mountain 
spider.  There  are  four  other  kinds  of  spiders  com- 
mon in  this  neighborhood  : tenagakumo,  or  “ long- 

1 “ Come,  firefly,  I will  give  you  water  to  drink.  The  water  of  that 
place  is  hitter;  the  water  here  is  sweet.” 

VOL.  II. 


376  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


armed  spider ; ” hiratakurao,  or  “ flat  spider ; ” jikumo, 
or  “ earth  spider ; ” and  totatekumo,  or  “ door-shutting 
spider.”  Most  spiders  are  considered  evil  beings.  A 
spider  seen  anywhere  at  night,  the  people  say,  should 
be  killed ; for  all  spidei-s  that  show  themselves  after 
dark  are  goblins.  While  people  are  awake  and 
watchful,  such  creatures  make  themselves  small ; but 
when  evei-ybody  is  fast  asleep,  then  they  assume  their 
true  goblin  shape,  and  become  monstrous. 

xm. 

The  high  wood  of  the  hill  behind  the  garden  is  full 
of  bird  life.  There  dwell  wild  uguisu,  owls,  wild 
doves,  too  many  crows,  and  a queer  bird  that  makes 
weird  noises  at  night,  — long  deep  sounds  of  hoo,  hoo. 
It  is  called  awamakidori  or  the  “ millet-sowing  bird,” 
because  when  the  farmers  hear  its  cry,  they  know 
that  it  is  time  to  plant  the  millet.  It  is  quite  small 
and  brown,  extremely  shy,  and,  so  far  as  I can  learn, 
altogether  nocturnal  in  its  habits. 

But  rarely,  very  rarely,  a far  stranger  cry  is  beard 
in  those  trees  at  night,  a voice  as  of  one  crying  in 
pain  the  syllables  “ ho-to-to-gi-su''  The  cry  and  the 
name  of  that  which  utters  it  are  one  and  the  same, 
hototogisu. 

It  is  a bird  of  which  weird  things  are  told  ; for  they 
say  it  is  not  really  a creature  of  this  living  world,  but 
anight  wanderer  from  the  Land  of  Darkness.  In  the 
Meido  its  dwelling  is  among  those  sunless  mountains 
of  Shide  over  which  all  souls  must  pass  to  reach  the 
place  of  judgment.  Once  in  each  year  it  comes  ; the 
time  of  its  coming  is  the  end  of  the  fifth  month,  by 
the  antique  counting  of  moons ; and  the  peasants, 
hearing  its  voice,  say  one  to  the  other,  “ Now  must 


IN  A JAPANESE  GARDEN. 


377 


we  sow  the  rice ; for  the  Shide-no-taosa  is  with  us.” 
The  word  taosa  signifies  the  head  man  of  a mura,  or 
village,  as  villages  were  governed  in  the  old  days ; 
but  why  the  hototogisu  is  called  the  taosa  of  Shide  I 
do  not  know.  Perhaps  it  is  deemed  to  be  a soul  from 
some  shadowy  hamlet  of  the  Shide  hills,  whereat  the 
ghosts  are  wont  to  rest  on  their  weary  way  to  the 
realm  of  Emma,  the  King  of  Death. 

Its  cry  has  been  interpreted  in  various  ways.  Some 
declare  that  the  hototogisu  does  not  really  repeat  its 
own  name,  but  asks,  Honzon  kaketakaf'  (Has 
the  honzon  ^ been  suspended  ?)  Others,  resting  their 
interpretation  upon  the  wisdom  of  the  Chinese,  aver 
that  the  bird’s  speech  signifies,  “ Surely  it  is  better 
to  return  home.”  This,  at  least,  is  true : that  all 
who  journey  far  from  their  native  place,  and  hear  the 
voice  of  the  hototogisu  in  other  distant  provinces, 
are  seized  with  the  sickness  of  longing  for  home. 

Only  at  night,  the  people  say,  is  its  voice  heard, 
and  most  often  upon  the  nights  of  great  moons ; and 
it  chants  while  hovering  high  out  of  sight,  wherefore 
a poet  has  sung  of  it  thus : — 

Hilo  hoe  wa. 

Tsuki  ga  naitaka 
Hototogisu  ! * 

And  another  has  written  : — 

Hototogisu 
Nakitsuru  kata  too 

1 By  honzon  is  here  meant  the  sacred  kakemono,  or  picture,  ex- 
posed to  piihlie  view  in  the  temples  only  upon  the  birthday  of  the 
Buddha,  which  is  the  eighth  day  of  the  old  fourth  month.  Honzon 
also  signides  the  principal  image  in  a Buddhist  temple. 

^ “ A solitary  voice  ! 

Did  the  Moon  cry  ? 

'T  was  but  the  hototogisu.” 


378  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


Nagamureba,  — 

Tada  ariake  no 
Tsuki  zo  nokoreru.^ 

The  dweller  in  cities  may  pass  a lifetime  without 
hearing  the  hototogisu.  Caged,  the  little  creature 
will  remain  silent  and  die.  Poets  often  wait  vainly 
in  the  dew,  from  sunset  till  dawm,  to  hear  the  strange 
cry  which  has  inspired  so  many  exquisite  verses. 
But  those  who  have  heard  found  it  so  mournful  that 
they  have  likened  it  to  the  cry  of  one  wounded  sud- 
denly to  death. 

Hototogisn 

Chi  ni  naku  koe  wa 
Ariake  no 

Tsuki  yori  hokani 
Kikti  hito  mo  nashi? 

Concerning  Izumoowls,  I shall  content  myself  with 
citing  a composition  by  one  of  my  Japanese  stu- 
dents : — 

“ The  Owl  is  a hateful  bird  that  sees  in  the  dark. 
Little  children  who  cry  are  frightened  by  the  threat 
that  the  Owl  will  come  to  take  them  away  ; for  the 
Owl  cries,  ‘ Ho  ! ho  ! sorotto  koka  ! sorotto  koka  ! ’ 
which  means,  ‘ Thou  ! must  I enter  slowly  ? ’ It  also 
cries  Noritmke  hose!  ho!  Ao.'’ which  means,  ‘Do 
thou  make  the  starch  to  use  in  washing  to-morrow  ! ’ 
And  when  the  women  hear  that  cry,  they  know  that 
to-morrow  will  be  a fine  day.  It  also  cries,  ‘ Tototo,' 
‘ The  man  dies,’  and  ‘ Kotokokko'  ‘ The  boy  dies.’ 
So  people  hate  it.  And  crows  hate  it  so  much  that  it 
is  used  to  catch  crows.  The  Farmer  puts  an  Owl  in 
the  rice-field ; and  all  the  crows  come  to  kill  it,  and 

1 « When  I gaze  towards  the  plaee  where  I heard  the  hototogisn  cry, 
lo  ! there  is  naught  save  the  wan  morning  moon.” 

* “ Save  only  the  morning  moon,  none  heard  the  heart’s-blood  cry 
of  the  hototogisu.” 


IN  A JAPANESE  GARDEN. 


379 


they  get  caught  fast  in  the  snares.  This  should  teach 
us  not  to  give  way  to  our  dislikes  for  other  people.” 

The  kites  which  hover  over  the  city  all  day  do  not 
live  in  the  neighborhood.  Their  nests  are  far  away 
upon  the  blue  peaks;  but  they  pass  much  of  their 
time  in  catching  fish,  and  in  stealing  from  back  yards. 
They  pay  the  wood  and  the  garden  swift  and  sudden 
piratical  visits  ; and  their  sinister  cry — pi-yoroyoro., 
pi-yordyoro  — sounds  at  intervals  over  the  town  from 
dawn  till  sundown.  Most  insolent  of  all  feathered  crea- 
tures they  certainly  are,  — more  insolent  than  even 
their  fellow-robbers,  the  crows.  A kite  will  drop  five 
miles  to  filch  a tai  out  of  a fish-sellei’’s  bucket,  or  a 
fried-cake  out  of  a child’s  hand,  and  shoot  back  to 
the  clouds  before  the  victim  of  the  theft  has  time  to 
stoop  for  a stone.  Hence  the  saying,  “ to  look  as 
snrpri.sed  as  if  one’s  aburag^  ^ had  been  snatched  from 
one's  hand  by  a kite.”  There  is,  moreover,  no  telling 
what  a kite  may  think  proper  to  steal.  For  exam- 
ple, my  neighbor’s  servant-girl  went  to  the  river  the 
other  day,  wearing  in  her  hair  a string  of  small  scar- 
let beads  made  of  rice-grains  prepared  and  dyed  in  a 
certain  ingenious  way.  A kite  lighted  upon  her 
head,  and  tore  away  and  swallowed  the  string  of  beads. 
But  it  is  great  fun  to  feed  these  birds  with  dead  rats 
or  mice  which  have  been  caught  in  traps  over  night 
and  subsequently  drowned.  The  instant  a dead  rat  is 
exposed  to  view  a kite  pounces  from  the  sky  to  bear 
it  away.  Sometimes  a crow  may  get  the  start  of  the 
kite,  but  the  crow  must  be  able  to  get  to  the  woods 
very  swiftly  indeed  in  oi'der  to  keep  his  prize.  The 
children  sing  this  song  : — ^ 

O O 

1 A sort  of  doughnut  made  of  bean  flour,  or  tofu. 


380  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAPx.  JAPAN. 


Tohi,  tohi,  maute  mise  ! 

Ashita  no  ha  ni 
Karasu  ni  kakushite 
Nezumi  yaru.^ 

The  mention  of  dancing  refers  to  the  beautiful 
balancing  motion  of  the  kite’s  wings  in  flight.  By 
suggestion  this  motion  is  poetically  compared  to  the 
graceful  swaying  of  a maiko,  or  dancing-girl,  extend- 
ing her  arms  and  waving  the  long  wide  sleeves  of  her 
silken  robe. 

Although  there  is  a numerous  sub-colony  of  crows 
in  the  wood  behind  ray  house,  the  headquarters  of  the 
corvine  army  are  in  the  pine  gi’ove  of  the  ancient 
castle  grounds,  visible  from  my  front  rooms.  To  see 
the  crows  all  flying  home  at  the  same  hour  every 
evening  is  an  interesting  spectacle,  and  popular  im- 
agination has  found  an  amusing  comparison  for  it  in 
the  hurry-skurry  of  people  running  to  a Are.  This 
explains  the  meaning  of  a song  which  children  sing 
to  the  crows  returning  to  their  nests : — 

Ato  no  karasu  saki  ine, 

W are  ga  iye  ga  yakeru  ken, 
llayo  inde  midzu  kake, 

Midzu  ga  nakya  yarozo, 

Amattara  ko  ni  yare, 

Ko  ga  nakya  modose.^ 

Confucianism  seems  to  have  discovered  virtue  in 
the  crow.  There  is  a Japanese  proverb,  “ Karasu 
ni  hampo  no  ko  ari^'  meaning  that  the  crow  performs 
the  fllial  duty  of  hampo,  or,  more  literally,  “ the  fllial 

1 “ Kite,  kite,  let  me  see  you  dance,  and  to-morrow  evening,  when 
the  crows  do  not  know,  I will  give  you  a rat.” 

2 “ O tardy  crow,  hasten  forward  ! Your  house  is  all  on  fire.  Hurry 
to  throw  water  upon  it.  If  there  be  no  water,  I will  give  you.  If  you 
have  too  much,  give  it  to  your  child.  If  you  have  no  child,  then  give 
it  back  to  me.” 


IN  A JAPANESE  GARDEN. 


381 


duty  of  hampo  exists  in  tbe  crow.”  “Hampo” 
means,  literally,  “ to  return  a feeding.”  The  young 
crow  is  said  to  requite  its  parents’  care  by  feeding 
them  when  it  becomes  strong.  Another  example  of 
filial  piety  has  been  furnished  by  the  dove.  “ Hato 
ni  sanshi  no  rei  ari,"  — the  dove  sits  three  branches 
below  its  parent ; or,  more  literally,  “ has  the  three- 
branch  etiquette  to  perform.” 

The  ciy  of  the  wild  dove  (yamabato),  which  I hear 
almost  daily  from  the  wood,  is  the  most  sweetly  plain- 
tive sound  that  ever  reached  my  ears.  The  Izumo 
peasantry  say  that  the  bird  utters  these  words,  which 
it  certainly  seems  to  do  if  one  listen  to  it  after  having 
learned  the  alleged  syllables : — 

Telg 

poppo, 

Kaka 

poppo, 

T€t€ 

poppo, 

Kaka 

poppo, 

Tel€  . . . (sudden  pause). 

“ Tdte  ” is  the  baby  word  for  “ father,”  and 
“kaka”  for  “mother;”  and  “poppo”  signifies,  in 
infantile  speech,  “the  bosom.”  ^ 

Wild  uguisu  also  frequently  sweeten  my  summer 
with  their  song,  and  sometimes  come  very  near  the 
house,  being  attracted,  apparently,  by  the  chant  of 
my  caged  pet.  The  uguisu  is  very  common  in  this 
province.  It  haunts  all  the  woods  and  the  sacred 
groves  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  city,  and  I never 

^ The  words  papa  and  mamma  exist  in  Japanese  baby  language, 
but  their  meaning  is  not  at  all  what  might  be  supposed,  .\famma,  or, 
with  the  usual  honorific,  0-mamma,  means  “ boiled  rice.”  Papa  means 
“ tobacco.” 


382  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


made  a journey  in  Izumo  during  the  warm  season 
without  heai’ing  its  note  from  some  shadowy  place. 
But  there  ai’e  uguisu  and  uguisu.  There  are  uguisu 
to  be  had  for  oue  or  two  yen,  but  the  finely  trained, 
cage-bred  singer  may  command  not  less  than  a hun- 
dred. 

It  was  at  a little  village  temple  that  I first  heard 
one  curious  belief  about  this  delicate  creature.  In 
Japan,  the  coffin  in  which  a corpse  is  borne  to  burial 
is  totally  unlike  an  Occidental  coffin.  It  is  a surpris- 
ingly small  square  box,  wherein  the  dead  is  placed 
in  a sitting  posture.  How  any  adult  corpse  can  be 
put  into  so  small  a space  may  well  be  an  enigma  to 
foreigners.  In  cases  of  pronounced  rigor  mortis  the 
work  of  getting  the  body  into  the  coffin  is  difficult 
even  for  the  professional  doshin-bozu.  But  the  de- 
vout followers  of  Niehiren  claim  that  after  death 
their  bodies  will  remain  perfectly  flexible;  and  the 
dead  body  of  an  uguisu,  they  affirm,  likewise  never 
stiffens,  for  this  little  bird  is  of  their  faith,  and  passes 
its  life  in  singing  praises  unto  the  Sutra  of  the  Lotus 
of  the  Good  Law. 

XIV. 

I have  already  become  a little  too  fond  of  my 
dwelling-place.  Each  day,  after  returning  from  my 
college  duties,  and  exchanging  my  teacher’s  uniform 
for  the  infinitely  more  comfortable  Japanese  robe, 
I find  more  than  compensation  for  the  weariness  of 
five  class-hours  in  the  simple  pleasure  of  squatting  on 
the  shaded  veranda  overlooking  the  gardens.  Those 
antique  garden  walls,  high-mossed  below  their  ruined 
coping  of  tiles,  seem  to  shut  out  even  the  murmur  of 
the  city’s  life.  There  are  no  sounds  but  the  voices 
of  birds,  the  shrilling  of  semi,  or,  at  long,  lazy  inter- 


IN  A JAPANESE  GARDEN. 


383 


vals,  the  solitary  plash  of  a diving  frog.  Nay,  those 
walls  seclude  me  from  much  more  than  city  streets. 
Outside  them  hums  the  changed  Japan  of  telegraphs 
and  newspapers  and  steamships  ; within  dwell  the 
all-reposing  peace  of  nature  and  the  dreams  of  the 
sixteenth  century.  There  is  a charm  of  quaintness 
in  the  very  air,  a faint  sense  of  something  viewless 
and  sweet  all  about  one ; perhaps  the  gentle  haunt- 
ing of  dead  ladies  who  looked  like  the  ladies  of  the 
old  picture-books,  and  who  lived  here  when  all  this 
was  new.  Even  in  the  summer  light  — touching 
the  gray  strange  shapes  of  stone,  thrilling  througli 
the  foliage  of  the  long-loved  trees  — there  is  the 
tenderness  of  a phantom  caress.  These  are  the  gar- 
dens of  the  past.  The  future  will  know  them  only 
as  dreams,  creations  of  a forgotten  art,  whose  charm 
no  genius  may  reproduce. 

Of  the  human  tenants  here  no  creature  seems  to  be 
afraid.  The  little  frogs  resting-upon  the  lotus-leaves 
scarcely  shrink  from  my  touch  ; the  lizards  sun  them- 
selves within  easy  reach  of  my  hand ; the  water- 
snakes  glide  across  my  shadow  without  fear  ; bands 
of  semi  establish  their  deafening  orchestra  on  a plum 
branch  just  above  my  head,  and  a praying  mantis 
insolently  poses  on  my  knee.  Swallows  and  spar- 
rows not  only  build  their  nests  on  my  roof,  but  even 
enter  my  rooms  without  concern,  — one  swallow  has 
actually  built  its  nest  in  the  ceiling  of  the  bath-room, 
— and  the  weasel  purloins  fish  under  my  very  eyes 
without  any  scruples  of  conscience.  A wild  uguisu 
perches  on  a cedar  by  the  window,  and  in  a burst  of 
savage  sweetness  challenges  my  caged  pet  to  a contest 
in  song ; and  always  through  the  golden  air,  from 
the  green  twilight  of  the  mountain  pines,  there  purls 


384  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


to  me  the  plaintive,  caressing,  delicious  call  of  the 
yamabato : — 

T(te 

poppo, 

Kaka 

poppo, 

Tm 

poppo, 

Kaka 

poppo, 

Tet^  . . . 

No  European  dove  has  such  a cry.  He  who  can  hear, 
for  the  first  time,  the  voice  of  the  yamabato  with- 
out feeling  a new  sensation  at  his  heart  little  de- 
serves to  dwell  in  this  happy  world. 

Yet  all  this  — the  old  katchiu-yashiki  and  its  gar- 
dens— will  doubtless  have  vanished  forever  before 
many  years.  Already  a multitude  of  gardens,  more 
spacious  and  more  beautiful  than  mine,  have  been 
converted  into  rice-fields  or  bamboo  groves ; and  the 
quaint  Izumo  city,  touched  at  last  by  some  long-pro- 
jected railway  line,  — perhaps  even  within  the  present 
decade,  — will  swell,  and  change,  and  grow  common- 
place, and  demand  these  grounds  for  the  building  of 
factories  and  mills.  Not  from  here  alone,  but  from 
all  the  land  the  ancient  peace  and  the  ancient  charm 
seem  doomed  to  pass  away.  For  impermanency  is  the 
nature  of  things,  more  particularly  in  Japan  ; and 
the  changes  and  the  changers  shall  also  be  changed 
until  there  is  found  no  place  for  them,  — and  regret 
is  vanity.  The  dead  art  that  made  the  beauty  of  this 
place  was  the  art,  also,  of  that  faith  to  which  belongs 
the  all-consoling  text,  “ Verily.,  even  plants  and  trees, 
rocks  and  stones,  all  shall  enter  into  Nirvana.” 


XVII 


THE  HOUSEHOLD  SHRINE. 


I. 

In  Japan  there  are  two  forms  of  the  Religion  of 
the  Dead,  — that  which  belongs  to  Shinto,  and  that 
which  belongs  to  Buddhism.  The  first  is  the  primi- 
tive cult,  commonly  called  ancestor -worship.  But 
the  term  ancestor-worship  seems  to  me  much  too  con- 
fined for  the  religion  whicli  pays  reverence  not  only 
to  those  ancient  gods  believed  to  be  the  fathers  of  the 
Japanese  race,  but  likewise  to  a host  of  deified  sover- 
eigns, heroes,  princes,  and  illustrious  men.  Within 
comparatively  recent  times,  the  great  Daimyo  of 
Izumo,  for  example,  were  apotheosized;  and  the 
peasants  of  Shimane  still  pray  before  the  shrines  of 
the  Matsudaira.  Moreover  Shinto,  like  the  faiths  of 
Hellas  and  of  Rome,  has  its  deities  of  the  elements 
and  special  deities  who  preside  over  all  the  various 
affairs  of  life.  Therefore  ancestor-worship,  though 
still  a striking  feature  of  Shinto,  does  not  alone  con- 
stitute the  State  Religion  : neither  does  the  term  fully 
describe  the  Shinto  cult  of  the  dead,  — a cult  which 
in  Izumo  retains  its  primitive  character  more  than  in 
other  parts  of  Japan. 

And  here  I may  presume,  though  no  sinologue,  to 
say  something  about  that  State  Religion  of  Japan,  — 
that  ancient  faith  of  Izumo,  — which,  although  even 
more  deeply  rooted  in  national  life  than  Buddhism, 
is  far  less  known  to  the  Western  world.  Except  in 


386  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


special  works  by  such  men  of  erudition  as  Chamber- 
lain  and  Satow,  — works  with  which  the  Occidental 
reader,  unless  himself  a specialist,  is  not  likely  to 
become  familiar  outside  of  Japan,  — little  has  been 
written  in  English  about  Shinto  which  gives  the  least 
idea  of  what  Shinto  is.  Of  its  ancient  traditions  and 
rites  much  of  rarest  interest  may  be  learned  from 
the  works  of  the  philologists  just  mentioned  ; but,  as 
Mr.  Satow  himself  acknowledges,  a definite  answer 
to  the  question,  “ What  is  the  nature  of  Shinto?”  is 
still  difficult  to  give.  How  define  the  common  ele- 
ment in  the  six  kinds  of  Shinto  which  are  known  to 
exist,  and  some  of  which  no  foreign  scholar  has  yet 
been  able  to  examine  for  lack  of  time  or  of  authorities 
or  of  opportunity  ? Even  in  its  modern  external 
forms,  Shinto  is  sufficiently  complex  to  task  the 
united  powers  of  the  historian,  philologist,  and  an- 
thropologist, merely  to  trace  out  the  multitudinous 
lines  of  its  evolution,  and  to  determine  the  sources 
of  its  various  elements : primeval  polytheisms  and 
fetichisms,  traditions  of  dubious  origin,  philosophical 
concepts  from  China,  Korea,  and  elsewhere,  — all 
mingled  with  Buddhism,  Taoism,  and  Confucianism. 
The  so-called  “ Revival  of  Pure  Shinto  ” — an  effort, 
aided  by  Government,  to  restore  the  cult  to  its 
archaic  simplicit)',  by  divesting  it  of  foreign  charac- 
teristics, and  especially  of  eveiy  sign  or  token  of 
Buddhist  origin  — resulted  only,  so  far  as  the  avowed 
purpose  was  concerned,  in  the  destruction  of  price- 
less art,  and  in  leaving  the  enigma  of  origins  as  com- 
plicated as  before.  Shinto  had  been  too  profoundly 
modified  in  the  course  of  fifteen  centuries  of  change 
to  be  thus  remodeled  b\'^  a fiat.  For  the  like  reason 
scholarly  efforts  to  define  its  relation  to  national  ethics 


THE  HOUSEHOLD  SHRINE. 


387 


by  mere  historical  and  philological  analysis  must  fail: 
as  well  seek  to  define  the  ultimate  secret  of  Life  by 
the  elements  of  the  body  which  it  animates.  Yet 
when  the  result  of  such  efforts  shall  have  been  closely 
combined  with  a deep  knowledge  of  Japanese  thought 
and  feeling,  — the  thought  and  sentiment,  not  of  a 
special  class,  but  of  the  people  at  large,  — then  in- 
deed all  that  Shinto  was  and  is  may  be  fully  compre- 
hended. And  this  may  be  accomplished,  I fancy, 
through  the  united  labor  of  European  and  Japanese 
scholai’s. 

Yet  something  of  what  Shinto  signifies,  — in  the 
simple  poetry  of  its  beliefs,  — in  the  home-training  of 
the  child,  — in  the  worship  of  filial  piety  before  the 
tablets  of  the  ancestors,  — may  be  learned  during  a 
residence  of  some  years  among  the  people,  by  one 
who  lives  their  life  and  adopts  their  manners  and 
customs.  With  such  experience  he  can  at  least  claim 
the  right  to  express  his  own  conception  of  Shinto. 


II. 

Those  far-seeing  rulers  of  the  Meiji  era,  who  dis- 
established Buddhism  to  strengthen  Shinto,  doubt- 
less knew  they  were  giving  new  force  not  only  to  a 
faith  in  perfect  harmony  with  their  own  state  policy, 
but  likewise  to  one  possessing  in  itself  a far  more 
profound  vitality  than  the  alien  creed,  which  although 
omnipotent  as  an  art-influence,  had  never  found  deep 
root  in  the  intellectual  soil  of  Japan.  Buddhism 
was  already  in  decrepitude,  though  transplanted  from 
China  scarcely  more  than  thirteen  centuries  before; 
while  Shinto,  though  doubtless  older  by  many  a thou- 
sand years,  seems  rather  to  have  gained  than  to  have 
lost  force  through  all  the  periods  of  change.  Eclectic 


388  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


like  the  genius  of  the  race,  it  had  appropriated  and 
assimilated  all  forms  of  foreign  thought  which  could 
aid  its  material  manifestation  or  fortify  its  ethics. 
Buddhism  had  attempted  to  absorb  its  gods,  even 
as  it  had  adopted  previously  the  ancient  deities  of 
Brahmanism  ; but  Shinto,  while  seeming  to  yield, 
was  really  only  borrowing  strength  fi-om  its  rival. 
And  this  marvelous  vitality  of  Shinto  is  due  to  the 
fact  that  ill  the  course  of  its  long  development  out 
of  unrecorded  beginnings,  it  became  at  a very  ancient 
epoch,  and  below  the  surface  still  remains,  a religion 
of  the  heart.  Whatever  be  the  origin  of  its  rites  and 
traditions,  its  ethical  spirit  has  become  identified 
with  all  the  deepest  and  best  emotions  of  the  race. 
Hence,  in  Izumo  especially,  the  attempt  to  create  a 
Buddhist-Shintoism  resulted  only  in  the  formation 
of  a Shinto-Buddhism. 

And  the  secret  living  force  of  Shinto  to-day  — that 
force  which  repels  missionary  efforts  at  proselytizing 
— means  something  much  more  profound  than  tradi- 
tion or  worship  or  ceremonialism.  Shinto  may  yet, 
without  loss  of  real  power,  survive  all  these.  Cer- 
tainly the  expansion  of  the  popular  mind  through 
education,  the  influences  of  modern  science,  must 
compel  modification  or  abandonment  of  many  ancient 
Shinto  conceptions  ; but  the  ethics  of  Shinto  will 
surely  endure.  For  Shinto  signifies  character  in  the 
higher  sense, — courage,  courtesy,  honor,  and  above 
all  things,  loyalty.  The  spirit  of  Shinto  is  the  spirit 
of  filial  piety,  the  zest  of  duty,  the  readiness  to  sur- 
render life  for  a principle  without  a thought  of  where- 
fore. It  is  the  docility  of  the  child ; it  is  the  sweet- 
ness of  the  Japanese  woman.  It  is  conservatism 


THE  HOUSEHOLD  SHRINE. 


389 


likewise ; the  wholesome  check  upon  the  national 
tendency  to  cast  away  the  worth  of  the  entire  past  in 
rash  eagerness  to  assimilate  too  much  of  the  foreign 
present.  It  is  religion,  — but  religion  transformed 
into  hereditary  moral  impulse,  — religion  transmuted 
into  ethical  instinct.  It  is  the  whole  emotional  life 
of  the  race,  — the  Soul  of  Japan. 

The  child  is  born  Shinto.  Home  teaching  and 
school  training  only  give  expression  to  what  is  innate  : 
they  do  not  plant  new  seed  ; they  do  but  quicken  the 
ethical  sense  transmitted  as  a trait  ancestral.  Even 
as  a Japanese  infant  inherits  such  ability  to  handle  a 
writing-brush  as  never  can  be  acquired  by  Western 
fingers,  so  does  it  inherit  ethical  sympathies  totally 
different  from  our  own.  Ask  a class  of  Japanese  stu- 
dents— young  students  of  fourteen  to  sixteen — to 
tell  their  dearest  wishes ; and  if  they  have  confidence 
in  the  questioner,  perhaps  nine  out  of  ten  will  answer  : 
“ To  die  for  His  Alajesty  Our  Emperor.”  And  the 
wish  soars  from  the  heart  pure  as  any  wish  for  mar- 
tyrdom ever  born.  How  much  this  sense  of  loyalty 
may  or  may  not  have  been  weakened  in  such  great 
centres  as  Tokyo  by  the  new  agnosticism  and  by  the 
rapid  growth  of  other  nineteenth  century  ideas  among 
the  student  class,  I do  not  know  ; but  in  the  country 
it  remains  as  natural  to  boyhood  as  joy.  Unreasoning 
it  also  is,  — unlike  those  loyal  sentiments  with  us,  the 
results  of  maturer  knowledge  and  settled  conviction. 
Never  does  the  Japanese  youth  ask  himself  why ; 
the  beauty  of  self-sacrifice  alone  is  the  all-sufficing  mo- 
tive. Such  ecstatic  loyalty  is  a part  of  the  national 
life;  it  is  in  the  blood,  — inherent  as  the  impulse  of 
the  ant  to  perish  for  its  little  republic,  — unconscious 
as  the  loyalty  of  bees  to  their  queen.  It  is  Shinto. 


390  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


That  readiness  to  sacrifice  one’s  own  life  for  loy- 
alty’s sake,  for  the  sake  of  a superior,  for  the  sake  of 
honor,  which  has  distinguished  the  race  in  modern 
times,  would  seem  also  to  have  been  a national  char- 
acteristic from  the  earliest  period  of  its  independent 
existence.  Long  before  the  epoch  of  established 
feudalism,  when  honorable  suicide  became  a matter  of 
rigid  etiquette,  not  for  warriors  only,  but  even  for  wo- 
men and  little  children,  the  giving  one’s  life  for  one’s 
prince,  even  when  the  sacrifice  could  avail  nothing, 
was  held  a sacred  duty.  Among  various  instances 
which  might  be  cited  from  the  ancient  Kojiki,  the 
following  is  not  the  least  impressive  : — 

Prince  Mayowa,  at  the  age  of  only  seven  years,  having 
killed  his  father’s  slayer,  fled  into  the  house  of  the  Grandee 
{Omi)  Tsubura.  “ Then  Prince  Oho-hatsuse  raised  an  army, 
and  besieged  that  house.  And  the  arrows  that  were  shot 
were  for  multitude  like  the  ears  of  the  reeds.  And  the 
Grandee  Tsubura  came  forth  himself,  and  having  taken  off 
the  weapons  with  which  he  was  girded,  did  obeisance  eight 
times,  and  said : ‘ The  maiden-princess  Kara,  my  daughter 
whom  thou  deignedst  anon  to  woo,  is  at  thy  service.  Again 
I will  present  to  thee  five  granaries.  Though  a vile  slave  of 
a Grandee  exerting  his  utmost  strength  in  the  fight  can 
scarcely  hope  to  conquer,  yet  must  he  die  rather  than  desert 
a prince  who,  trusting  in  him,  has  entered  into  his  house.’ 
Having  thus  spoken,  he  again  took  his  weapons,  and  went 
in  once  more  to  fight.  Then,  their  strength  being  exliausted, 
and  their  arrows  finished,  he  said  to  the  Prince ; ‘ My 
hands  are  wounded,  and  our  arrows  are  finished.  TTe  can- 
not now  fight : what  shall  be  done  ? ’ The  Prince  replied 
saying : ‘ There  is  nothing  more  to  do.  Do  thou  now  slay 
me.’  So  the  Grandee  Tsubura  thrust  the  Prince  to  death 
with  his  sword,  and  forthwith  killed  himself  by  cutting  off 
his  own  head.” 


THE  HOUSEHOLD  SHRINE. 


391 


Thousands  of  equally  strong  examples  could  easily 
be  quoted  from  later  Japanese  history,  including  many 
■which  occurred  even  within  the  memory  of  the  living. 
Nor  was  it  for  persons  alone  that  to  die  might  become 
a sacred  duty : in  certain  contingencies  conscience 
held  it  scarcely  less  a duty  to  die  for  a purely  personal 
conviction;  and  he  who  held  any  opinion  which  he 
believed  of  paramount  importance  would,  when  other 
means  failed,  write  his  views  in  a letter  of  farewell, 
and  then  take  his  own  life,  in  order  to  call  attention 
to  his  beliefs  and  to  prove  their  sincerity.  Such  an 
instance  occurred  only  last  year  in  Tokyo, ^ when  the 
young  lieutenant  of  militia,  Ohara  Takeyoshi,  killed 
kimself  by  harakiri  in  the  cemetery  of  Saitokuji, 
leaving  a letter  stating  as  the  reason  for  his  act,  his 
hope  to  force  public  recognition  of  the  danger  to 
Japanese  independence  from  the  growth  of  Russian 
power  in  the  North  Pacific.  But  a much  more  touch- 
ing sacrifice,  in  May  of  the  same  year,  — a sacrifice 
conceived  in  the  purest  and  most  innocent  spirit  of 
loyalty,  — was  that  of  the  young  girl  Yoko  Hatake- 
yama,  who,  after  the  attempt  to  assassinate  the  Czare- 
vitch, traveled  from  Tokyo  to  Kyoto  and  there  killed 
herself  before  the  gate  of  the  Kencho,  merely  as  a 
vicarious  atonement  for  the  incident  which  had  caused 
shame  to  Japan  and  grief  to  the  Father  of  the  people, 
— His  Sacred  Majesty  the  Emperor. 

III. 

As  to  its  exterior  forms,  modern  Shinto  is  indeed 
difficult  to  analyze ; but  through  all  the  intricate 
texture  of  extraneous  beliefs  so  thickly  interwoven 
about  it,  indications  of  its  earliest  character  are  still 
^ This  was  written  earlj  in  1892. 


VOL.  II. 


392  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


easily  discerned.  In  certain  of  its  primitive  rites,  in 
its  archaic  prayers  and  texts  and  symbols,  in  the  his- 
tory of  its  shrines,  and  even  in  many  of  the  artless 
ideas  of  its  poorest  worshipers,  it  is  plainly  revealed 
as  the  most  ancient  of  all  forms  of  worship,  — that 
which  Herbert  Spencer  terms  “ the  root  of  all  reli- 
gions,”— devotion  to  the  dead.  Indeed,  it  has  been 
frequently  so  expounded  by  its  own  greatest  scholars 
and  theologians.  Its  divinities  are  ghosts ; all  the 
dead  become  deities.  In  the  Tama-no-mihashira 
the  great  commentator  Hirata  says  “ the  spirits  of 
the  dead  continue  to  exist  in  the  unseen  world  which 
is  everywhere  about  us,  and  they  all  become  gods  of 
varying  character  and  degrees  of  influence.  Some 
reside  in  temples  built  in  their  honor ; others  hover 
near  their  tombs  ; and  they  continue  to  render  ser- 
vices to  their  prince,  parents,  wife,  and  children,  as 
when  in  the  body.”  ^ And  they  do  more  than  this, 
for  they  control  the  lives  and  the  doings  of  men. 
“ Every  human  action,”  says  Hirata,  “ is  the  work  of 
a god.”  2 And  Motowori,  scarcely  less  famous  an 
exponent  of  pure  Shinto  doctrine,  writes : “ All  the 
moral  ideas  which  a man  requires  are  implanted  in 
his  bosom  by  the  gods,  and  are  of  the  same  nature 
with  those  instincts  which  impel  him  to  eat  when  he 
is  hungry  or  to  drink  when  he  is  thirst}".”®  With 
this  doctrine  of  Intuition  no  decalogue  is  required, 
no  fixed  code  of  ethics ; and  the  human  conscience 
is  declared  to  be  the  only  necessary  guide.  Though 

1 Quoted  from  Mr.  Satow’s  ma-sterly  essay,  “ The  Revival  of  Pure 
Shinto,”  published  in  the  Transactions  of  the  Asiatic  Society  of  Japan. 
By  “ gods  ” .are  not  necessarily  meant  beneficent  Kami.  Shinto  has 
DO  devils  ; but  it  has  its  “bad  gods”  as  well  as  good  deities. 

2 Satow,  “ The  Revival  of  Pure  Shinto.” 

8 Ibid. 


THE  HOUSEHOLD  SHRINE. 


393 


every  action  be  “ the  work  of  a Kami,”  yet  each 
man  has  within  him  the  power  to  discern  the  right- 
eous impulse  from  the  unrighteous,  the  influence  of 
the  good  deity  from  that  of  the  evil.  No  moral 
teacher  is  so  infallible  as  one’s  own  heart.  “ To 
have  learned  that  there  is  no  way  (^michi')”  ^ says 
Motowori,  “ to  be  learned  and  practiced,  is  really 
to  have  learned  the  Way  of  the  Gods.”  2 And  Hi- 
rata  writes : “ If  you  desire  to  practice  true  virtue, 
learn  to  stand  in  awe  of  the  Unseen ; and  that  will 
prevent  you  from  doing  wrong.  Make  a vow  to  the 
Gods  who  rule  over  the  Unseen,  and  cultivate  the 
conscience  (ma-gokoro')  implanted  in  you ; and  then 
you  will  never  wander  from  the  way.”  How  this 
spiritual  self-culture  may  best  be  obtained,  the  same 
great  expounder  has  stated  with  almost  equal  brev- 
ity : “ Devotion  to  the  memory  of  ancestors  is  the 
mainspring  of  all  virtues.  No  one  who  discharges  his 
duty  to  them  will  ever  he  disrespectful  to  the  Gods 
or  to  his  living  parents.  Such  a man  will  be  faithful 
to  his  prince,  loyal  to  his  friends,  and  kind  and  gentle 
with  his  wife  and  children.”  ^ 

How  far  are  these  antique  beliefs  removed  from 
the  ideas  of  the  nineteenth  century?  Certainly  not 
so  far  that  we  can  afford  to  smile  at  them.  The  faith 
of  the  primitive  man  and  the  knowledge  of  the  most 
profound  psychologist  may  meet  in  strange  harmony 

1 In  the  sense  of  .1/ornZ  PatJi,  — i.  e.  an  ethical  system. 

~ Siitow,  “ The  Revival  of  Pure  Shinto.”  The  whole  force  of  Mo- 
towori’s  words  will  not  be  fully  understood  unless  the  reader  knows 
that  the  terra  “ Shinto  ” is  of  comparatively  modern  origin  in  Japan, 
— having  been  borrowed  from  the  Chinese  to  distinguish  the  ancient 
faith  from  Buddhism ; and  that  the  old  name  for  the  primitive 
religion  is  Kami-no-michi,  “the  Way  of  the  Gods.” 

® Satow,  “ The  Revival  of  Pure  Shinto.” 


394  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


upon  the  threshold  of  the  same  ultimate  truth,  and 
the  thought  of  a child  may  repeat  the  conclusions  of 
a Spencer  or  a Schopenhauer.  Are  not  our  ancestors 
in  very  truth  our  Kami?  Is  not  every  action  indeed 
the  vrork  of  the  Dead  who  dwell  within  us?  Have 
not  our  impulses  and  tendencies,  our  capacities  and 
weaknesses,  our  heroisms  and  timidities,  been  created 
by  those  vanished  myriads  from  whom  we  received 
the  all-mysterious  bequest  of  Life  ? Do  we  still 
think  of  that  infinitely  complex  Something  which  is 
each  one  of  us,  and  which  we  call  EGO,  as  “ I ” or 
as  “ They  ” ? What  is  our  pride  or  shame  but  the 
pride  or  shame  of  the  Unseen  in  that  which  They 
have  made?  — and  what  our  Conscience  but  the  in- 
herited sum  of  countless  dead  experiences  with  vary- 
ing good  and  evil?  Nor  can  we  hastily  reject  the 
Shinto  thought  that  all  the  dead  become  gods,  while 
we  respect  the  convictions  of  those  strong  souls  of 
to-day  who  proclaim  the  divinity  of  Man. 


IV. 

Shinto  ancestor-worship,  no  doubt,  like  all  ancestor- 
worship,  was  developed  out  of  funeral  rites,  according 
to  that  general  law  of  religious  evolution  traced  so 
fully  by  Herbert  Spencer.  And  there  is  reason  to 
believe  that  the  early  forms  of  Shinto  public  worship 
may  have  been  evolved  out  of  a yet  older  family 
worship,  — much  after  the  manner  in  which  M. 
Fustel  de  Coulanges,  in  his  wonderful  book,  “La  Cite 
Antique,”  has  shown  the  religious  public  institutions 
among  the  Greeks  and  Romans  to  have  been  devel- 
oped from  the  religion  of  the  hearth.  Indeed,  the 
word  ujigami,  now  used  to  signify  a Shinto  parish 
temple,  and  also  its  deity,  means  '■'■family  God,”  and 


THE  HOUSEHOLD  SHRINE. 


395 


in  its  present  form  is  a corruption  or  contraction 
of  uchi-no-Kami,  meaning  the  “ god  of  the  interior  ” 
or  “the  god  of  the  house.”  Shinto  expounders  have, 
it  is  true,  attempted  to  interpret  the  term  otherwise ; 
and  Hirata,  as  quoted  by  Mr,  Ernest  Satow,  declared 
the  name  should  be  applied  only  to  the  common  an- 
cestor, or  ancestors,  or  to  one  so  entitled  to  the  grati- 
tude of  a community  as  to  merit  equal  honors.  Such, 
undoubtedly,  was  the  just  use  of  the  term  in  his 
time,  and  long  before  it ; but  the  etymology  of  the 
word  would  certainly  seem  to  indicate  its  origin  in 
family  worship,  and  to  conhrm  modern  scientific  be- 
liefs in  regard  to  the  evolution  of  religious  institu- 
tions. 

Now  just  as  among  the  Greeks  and  Latins  the 
family  cult  always  continued  to  exist  through  all  the 
development  and  expansion  of  the  public  religion,  so 
the  Shinto  family  worship  has  continued  concomi- 
tantly with  the  communal  worship  at  the  countless 
ujigami,  with  popular  worship  at  the  famed  Oho-ya- 
shiro  of  various  provinces  or  districts,  and  with 
national  worship  at  the  great  shrines  of  Ise  and  Ki- 
tzuki.  Many  objects  connected  with  the  family  cult 
are  certainly  of  alien  or  modeim  origin;  but  its  simple 
rites  and  its  unconscious  poetry  retain  their  archaic 
charm.  And,  to  the  student  of  Japanese  life,  by  far 
the  most  interesting  aspect  of  Shinto  is  offered  in 
this  home  worship,  which,  like  the  home  worship  of 
the  antique  Occident,  exists  in  a dual  form. 


396  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


V. 

In  nearly  all  Izumo  dwellings  there  is  a kamidana,^ 
or  “ Shelf  of  the  Gods.”  On  this  is  usually  placed  a 
small  Shinto  shrine  (miya)  containing  tablets  bear- 
ing the  names  of  gods  (one  at  least  of  which  tab- 
lets is  furnished  by  the  neighboring  Shinto  parish 
temple),  and  various  ofuda,  holy  texts  or  charms, 
which  most  often  are  written  promises  in  the  name 
of  some  Kami  to  protect  his  worshiper.  If  there  be 
no  miya,  the  tablets  or  ofuda  are  simply  placed  upon 
the  shelf  in  a certain  order,  the  most  sacred  having 
the  middle  place.  Very  rarely  are  images  to  be  seen 
upon  a kamidana : for  primitive  Shintoism  excluded 
images  rigidly  as  Jewish  or  Mohammedan  law;  and 
all  Shinto  iconography  belongs  to  a comparatively 
modern  era,  — especially  to  the  period  of  Ryobu- 
Shinto,  — and  must  be  considered  of  Buddhist  origin. 
If  there  be  any  images,  they  will  probably  be  such 
as  have  been  made  only  within  recent  years  at  Ki- 
tzuki ; those  small  twin  figures  of  Oho-kuni-nushi-no- 
Kami  and  of  Koto-shiro-nushi-no-Kami,  described 
in  a former  paper  upon  the  Kitzuki-no-oho-yashiro. 
Shinto  kakemono,  which  are  also  of  latter-day  origin, 
representing  incidents  from  the  Kojiki,  are  much 
more  common  than  Shinto  icons : these  usually  oc- 
cupy the  toko,  or  alcove,  in  the  same  room  in  which 
the  kamidana  is  placed ; but  they  will  not  be  seen  in 
the  houses  of  the  more  cultivated  classes.  Ordina- 
rily there  will  be  found  upon  the  kamidana  nothing 

1 From  Kami,  “ the  [Powers]  Above,”  or  the  Gods,  and  tana,  “ a 
shelf.”  The  initial  ‘‘  t ” of  the  latter  word  changes  into  “ d ” in  the 
compound,  — just  as  that  of  tokkuri,  “ a jar  ” or  “ bottle,”  becomes  dok- 
kuri  in  the  compound  o-mikidokkuri. 


THE  HOUSEHOLD  SHRINE. 


397 


but  the  simple  miya  containing  some  ofuda:  very, 
very  seldom  will  a mirror^  be  seen,  or  gobei, — ex- 
cept the  gohei  attached  to  the  small  shimenawa 
either  hung  just  above  the  kamidana  or  suspended 
to  the  box-like  frame  in  which  the  miya  sometimes 
is  placed.  The  shimenawa  and  the  paper  gohei  are 
the  true  emblems  of  Shinto : even  the  ofuda  and 
the  mamori  are  quite  modern.  Not  only  before  the 
household  shrine,  but  also  above  the  house-door  of 
almost  every  home  in  Izumo,  the  shimenawa  is  sus- 
pended. It  is  ordinarily  a thin  rope  of  rice  straw; 
but  before  the  dwellings  of  high  Shinto  officials,  such 
as  the  Taisha-Guji  of  Kitzuki,  its  size  and  weight 
are  enormous.  One  of  the  first  curious  facts  that  the 
traveler  in  Izumo  cannot  fail  to  be  impressed  by  is 
the  univei’sal  presence  of  this  symbolic  rope  of  straw, 
which  may  sometimes  even  be  seen  round  a rice-field. 
But  the  grand  displays  of  the  sacred  symbol  are 
upon  the  great  festivals  of  the  new  year,  the  acces- 
sion of  Jimmu  Tenno  to  the  throne  of  Japan,  and 
the  Emperor’s  birthday.  Then  all  the  miles  of 
streets  are  festooned  with  shimenawa  thick  as  ship- 
cables. 

VT. 

A particular  feature  of  INIatsue  are  the  miya-shops, 
— establishments  not,  indeed,  peculiar  to  the  old 
Izumo  town,  but  much  more  interesting  than  those 

1 The  mirror,  as  an  emblem  of  female  divinities,  is  kept  in  the 
secret  innermost  shrine  of  various  Shinto  temples.  But  the  mirror  of 
metal  commonly  placed  before  the  public  gaze  in  a Shinto  shrine  is 
not  really  of  Shinto  origin,  but  vras  introduced  into  Japan  as  a Bud- 
dhist symbol  of  the  Shingon  sect.  As  the  mirror  is  the  symbol  in  Shinto 
of  female  divinities,  the  sword  is  the  emblem  of  male  deities.  The  real 
symbols  of  the  god  or  goddess  are  not,  however,  exposed  to  human 
gaze  under  any  circumstances. 


398  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


to  be  found  in  larger  cities  of  other  provinces.  There 
are  miya  of  a hundred  varieties  and  sizes,  from  the 
child’s  toy  miya  which  sells  for  less  than  one  sen,  to 
the  large  shrine  destined  for  some  rich  home,  and 
costing  perhaps  ten  yen  or  more.  Besides  these,  the 
household  shrines  of  Shinto,  may  occasionally  be  seen 
massive  shrines  of  precious  wood,  lacquered  and 
gilded,  worth  from  three  hundred  even  to  fifteen 
hundred  yen.  These  are  not  household  shrines;  but 
festival  shrines,  and  are  made  only  for  rich  mer- 
chants. They  are  displayed  on  Shinto  holidays,  and 
twice  a year  are  borne  through  the  streets  in  proces- 
sion, to  shouts  of  “ Chosaya!  cliomyal"^  Each  tem- 
ple parish  also  possesses  a large  portable  miya  which 
is  paraded  on  these  occasions  with  much  chanting 
and  beating  of  drums.  The  majority  of  household 
miya  are  cheap  constructions.  A very  fine  one  can 
be  purchased  for  about  two  yen ; but  those  little 
shrines  one  sees  in  the  houses  of  the  common  people 
cost,  as  a rule,  considerably  less  than  half  a yen. 
And  elaborate  or  costly  household  shrines  are  con- 
trary to  the  spirit  of  pure  Shinto.  The  true  miya 
should  be  made  of  spotless  white  hinoki^  wood,  and 
be  put  together  without  nails.  Most  of  those  I have 

1 Anciently  the  two  great  Shint5  festivals  on  which  the  miya  were 
thus  carried  in  procession  were  the  Yoshigami-no-matsuri,  or  festival 
of  the  God  of  the  New  Year,  and  the  anniversary  of  Jimmu  Tenno 
to  the  throne.  The  second  of  these  is  still  observed.  The  celebration 
of  the  Emperor’s  birthday  is  the  only  other  occasion  when  the  miya 
are  paraded.  On  both  days  the  streets  are  beautifully  decorated  with 
lanterns  and  shimenawa,  the  fringed  ropes  of  rice  straw  which  are 
the  emblems  of  Shinto.  Nobody  now  knows  exactly  what  the  words 
chanted  on  these  days  (chosaya!  chosaya!)  mean.  One  theory  is 
that  they  are  a corruption  of  Sagicho,  the  name  of  a great  samurai 
military  festival,  which  was  celebrated  nearly  at  the  same  time  as  the 
Yoshigami-no-matsuri,  — both  holidays  now  being  obsolete. 

* Thuya  ohtusa. 


I 


THE  HOUSEHOLD  SHRINE. 


399 


seen  in  the  shops  had  their  several  parts  joined 
only  with  rice-paste ; but  the  skill  of  the  maker  ren- 
dered this  sufficient.  Pure  Shinto  requires  that  a 
miya  should  be  without  gilding  or  ornamentation. 
The  beautiful  miniature  temples  in  some  rich  homes 
may  justly  excite  admiration  by  their  artistic  struc- 
ture and  decoration ; but  the  ten  or  thirteen  cent 
miya,  in  the  house  of  a laborer  or  a kurumaya,  of 
plain  white  wood,  truly  represents  that  spirit  of  sim- 
plicity characterizing  the  primitive  religion. 

VII. 

The  kamidana  or  “ God-shelf,”  upon  which  are 
placed  the  miya  and  other  sacred  objects  of  Shinto 
worship,  is  usually  fastened  at  a height  of  about  six 
or  seven  feet  above  the  floor.  As  a rule  it  should 
not  be  placed  higher  than  the  hand  can  reach  with 
ease ; but  in  houses  having  lofty  rooms  the  miya  is 
sometimes  put  up  at  such  a height  that  the  sacred 
offerings  cannot  be  made  without  the  aid  of  a box  or 
other  object  to  stand  upon.  It  is  not  commonly  a 
part  of  the  house  structure,  but  a plain  shelf  at- 
tached with  brackets  either  to  the  wall  itself,  at  some 
angle  of  the  apartment,  or,  as  is  much  more  usual,  to 
the  kamoi,  or  horizontal  grooved  beam,  in  which  the 
screens  of  opaque  paper  (fusuma),  which  divide 
room  from  room,  slide  to  and  fro.  Occasionally  it  is 
painted  or  lacquered.  But  the  ordinary  kamidana  is 
of  white  wood,  and  is  made  larger  or  smaller  in  pro- 
portion to  the  size  of  the  miya,  or  the  number  of  the 
ofuda  and  other  sacred  objects  to  the  placed  upon  it. 
In  some  houses,  notably  those  of  innkeepers  and 
small  merchants,  the  kamidana  is  made  long  enough 
to  support  a number  of  small  shrines  dedicated  to 


400  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


different  Shinto  deities,  particularly  those  believed 
to  preside  over  wealth  and  commercial  prosperity. 
In  the  houses  of  the  poor  it  is  nearly  always  placed 
in  the  room  facing  the  street ; and  IMatsue  shop- 
keepers usually  erect  it  in  their  shops,  — so  that  the 
passer-by  or  the  customer  can  tell  at  a glance  in  what 
deities  the  occupant  puts  his  trust.  There  are  many 
regulations  concerning  it.  It  may  be  placed  to  face 
south  or  east,  but  should  not  face  west,  and  under  no 
possible  circumstances  should  it  be  suffered  to  face 
north  or  northwest.  One  explanation  of  this  is  the 
influence  upon  Shinto  of  Chinese  philosophy,  accord- 
ing to  which  there  is  some  fancied  relation  between 
South  or  East  and  the  Male  Principle,  and  between 
West  or  North  and  the  Female  Principle.  But  the 
popular  notion  on  the  subject  is  that  because  a dead 
person  is  buried  with  the  head  turned  north,  it  would 
be  very  wrong  to  place  a miya  so  as  to  face  north,  — 
since  everything  relating  to  death  is  impure ; and  the 
regulation  about  the  west  is  not  strictly  observed. 
Most  kamidana  in  Izumo,  however,  face  south  or 
east.  In  the  houses  of  the  poorest  — often  consisting 
of  but  one  apartment  — there  can  be  little  choice  as 
to  rooms ; but  it  is  a rule,  observed  in  the  dwellings 
of  the  middle  classes,  that  the  kamidana  must  not  be 
placed  either  in  the  guest  room  (zashiki)  nor  in  the 
kitchen ; and  in  shizoku  houses  its  place  is  usually  in 
one  of  the  smaller  family  apartments.  Respect  must 
be  shown  it.  One  must  not  sleep,  for  example,  or 
even  lie  down  to  rest,  with  his  feet  turned  towards 
it.  One  must  not  pray  before  it,  or  even  stand  be- 
fore it,  while  in  a state  of  religious  impurity,  — such 
as  that  entailed  by  having  touched  a corpse,  or  at- 
tended a Buddhist  funeral,  or  even  during  the  period 


THE  HOUSEHOLD  SHRINE. 


401 


of  mourning  for  kindred  buried  according  to  the 
Buddhist  rite.  Should  any  member  of  the  family  be 
thus  buried,  then  during  fifty  days  ^ the  kamidana 
must  be  entirely  screened  from  view  with  pure  white 
paper,  and  even  the  Shinto  ofuda,  or  pious  invoca- 
tions fastened  upon  the  house-door,  must  have  white 
paper  pasted  over  them.  During  the  same  mourning 
period  the  fire  in  the  house  is  considered  unclean  ; 
and  at  the  close  of  the  term  all  the  ashes  of  the  bra- 
ziers and  of  the  kitchen  must  be  cast  away,  and  new 
fire  kindled  with  a flint  and  steel.  Nor  are  funerals 
the  only  source  of  legal  uncleanliness.  Shinto,  as  the 
religion  of  purity  and  purification,  has  a Deuteron- 
omy of  quite  an  extensive  kind.  During  certain 
periods  women  must  not  even  pray  before  the  iniya, 
much  less  make  offerings  or  touch  the  sacred  vessels, 
or  kindle  the  lights  of  the  Kami. 


VIII. 

Before  the  miya,  or  whatever  holy  object  of  Shinto 
worship  be  placed  upon  the  kamidana,  are  set  two 
quaintly  shaped  jars  for  the  offerings  of  sake;  two 
small  vases,  to  contain  sprays  of  the  sacred  plant 
sakaki,  or  offerings  of  flowers  ; and  a small  lamp, 
shaped  like  a tiny  saucer,  where  a wick  of  rush-pith 
floats  in  rapeseed  oil.  Strictly  speaking,  all  these 
utensils  except  the  flower-vases  should  be  made  of  un- 
glazed red  earthenware,  such  as  we  find  described 
in  the  early  chapters  of  the  Kojiki  : and  still  at 
Shinto  festivals  in  Izumo,  when  sak4  is  drunk  in 

1 Such  at  least  is  the  mourning  period  under  such  circumstances  in 
certain  samurai  families.  Others  say  twenty  days  is  sufficient.  The 
Buddhist  code  of  mourning  is  extremely  varied  and  complicated,  and 
would  require  much  space  to  dilate  upon. 


402  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


honor  of  the  gods,  it  is  drunk  out  of  cups  of  red 
baked  unglazed  clay  shaped  like  shallow  round  dishes. 
But  of  late  years  it  has  become  the  fashion  to  make 
all  the  utensils  of  a fine  kamidana  of  brass  or  bronze, 
— even  the  hanaik^,  or  flower-vases.  Among:  the 
poor,  the  most  archaic  utensils  are  still  used  to  a 
great  extent,  especially  in  the  remoter  country  dis 
tricts;  the  lamp  being  a simple  saucer  or  kawarake 
of  red  clay  ; and  the  flower-vases  most  often  bamboo 
cups,  made  by  simply  cutting  a section  of  bamboo 
immediately  below  a joint  and  about  five  inches 
above  it. 

The  brazen  lamp  is  a much  more  complicated  object 
than  the  kawarake,  which  costs  but  one  rin.  The 
brass  lamp  costs  about  twenty-five  sen,  at  least.  It 
consists  of  two  parts.  The  lower  part,  shaped  like 
a very  shallow,  broad  wineglass,  with  a very  thick 
stem,  has  an  interior  as  well  as  an  exterior  rim;  and 
the  bottom  of  a correspondingly  broad  and  shallow 
brass  cup,  which  is  the  upper  part  and  contains  the 
oil,  fits  exactly  into  this  inner  rim.  This  kind  of 
lamp  is  always  furnished  with  a small  brass  object  in 
the  shape  of  a flat  ring,  with  a stem  set  at  right 
angles  to  the  surface  of  the  ring.  It  is  used  for  mov- 
ing the  floating  wick  and  keeping  it  at  any  position 
required  ; and  the  little  perpendicular  stem  is  long 
enough  to  prevent  the  fingers  from  touching  the  oil. 

The  most  curious  objects  to  be  seen  on  any  ordi- 
nary kamidana  are  the  stoppers  of  the  sake-vessels  or 
o-mikidokkuri  (“honorable  sake-jars”).  These  stop 
pers  — o-mikidokkuri-no-kuchisashi  — may  be  made 
of  brass,  or  of  fine  thin  slips  of  wood  jointed  and  bent 
into  the  singular  form  required.  Properly  sjjeaking, 
the  thing  is  not  a real  stopper,  in  spite  of  its  name ; 


THE  HOUSEHOLD  SHRINE. 


403 


its  lower  part  does  not  fill  the  mouth  of  the  jar  at 
all : it  simply  hangs  in  the  orifice  like  a leaf  put 
there  stem  downwards.  I find  it  difficult  to  learn  its 
histoiy  ; but,  though  there  are  many  designs  of  it, — 
the  finer  ones  being  of  brass,  — the  shape  of  all 
seems  to  hint  at  a Buddhist  origin.  Possibly  the 
shape  was  borrowed  from  a Buddhist  symbol,  — the 
Hoshi-no-tama,  that  mystic  gem  whose  lambent  glow 
(iconographically  suggested  as  a playing  of  flame)  is 
the  emblem  of  Pure  Essence;  and  thus  the  object 
would  be  ty2)ical  at  once  of  the  purity  of  the  wine- 
offering and  the  purity  of  the  heart  of  the  giver. 

The  little  lamp  may  not  be  lighted  every  evening 
in  all  homes,  since  there  are  families  too  poor  to  af- 
ford even  this  infinitesimal  nightly  expenditure  of  oil. 
But  upon  the  first,  fifteenth,  and  twenty-eighth  of  each 
month  the  light  is  always  kindled ; for  these  are 
Shinto  holidays  of  obligation,  when  offerings  must  be 
made  to  the  gods,  and  when  all  uji-ko,  or  parishioners 
of  a Shinto  temple,  are  supposed  to  visit  their  uji- 
gami.  In  every  home  on  these  days  sak^  is  poured 
as  an  offering  into  the  o-mikidokkuri,  and  in  the 
vases  of  the  kamidana  are  placed  sprays  of  the  holy 
sakaki,  or  sprigs  of  pine,  or  fresh  flowers.  On  the 
first  day  of  the  new  year  the  kamidana  is  always 
decked  with  sakaki,  moromoki  (ferns),  and  pine- 
sprigs,  and  also  with  a shimenawa ; and  large  double 
rice  cakes  are  placed  upon  it  as  offerings  to  the  gods. 


IX. 

But  only  the  ancient  gods  of  Shinto  are  worshiped 
before  the  kamidana.  The  family  ancestors  or  fam- 
ily dead  are  worshiped  either  in  a separate  room 
(called  the  mitamaya,  or  “Spirit  Chamber ”),  or,  if 


404  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


worshiped  according  to  the  Buddhist  rites,  before 
the  butsuma  or  butsudan. 

The  Buddhist  family  worship  coexists  in  the  vast 
majority  of  Izumo  homes  with  the  Shinto  family 
worship  ; and  whether  the  dead  be  honored  in  the 
mitamaya  or  before  the  butsudan  altogether  depends 
upon  the  religious  traditions  of  the  household.  More- 
over, there  are  families  in  Izumo — particularly  in 
Kitzuki  — whose  members  do  not  profess  Buddhism 
in  any  form,  and  a very  few,  belonging  to  the  Shiu- 
shu  or  Nichiren-shu,^  whose  members  do  not  practice 
Shinto.  But  the  domestic  cult  of  the  dead  is  main- 
tained, whether  the  family  be  Shinto  or  Buddhist. 
The  ihai  or  tablets  of  the  Buddhist  family  dead  (Ho- 
toke)  are  never  placed  in  a special  room  or  shrine, 
but  in  the  Buddhist  household  shrine^  alongr  with 

1 In  spite  of  the  supposed  rigidity  of  the  Xichiren  sect  in  such  mat- 
ters, most  followers  of  its  doctrine  in  Izumo  are  equally  fervent  Shin- 
toists.  I have  not  been  able  to  observe  whether  the  same  is  true 
of  Izumo  Shin-shu  families  as  a rule ; but  I know  that  some  Shin-shu 
believers  in  Matsue  worship  at  Shinto  shrines.  Adoring  only  that 
form  of  Buddha  called  Amida,  the  Shin  sect  might  be  termed  a Bud- 
dhist “ Unitarianism.”  It  seems  never  to  have  been  able  to  secure  a 
strong  footing  in  Izumo  on  account  of  its  doctrinal  hostility  to  Shinto. 
Elsewhere  thronghont  Japan  it  is  the  most  vigorous  and  prosperous  of 
all  Buddhist  sects. 

2 hir.  Morse,  iu  his  Japanese  Homes,  published  on  hearsay  a very 
strange  error  when  he  stated : “ The  Buddhist  household  shrines 
rest  on  the  floor  — at  least  so  I was  informed.”  They  never  rest  on  the 
floor  under  any  circumstances.  In  the  better  class  of  houses  special 
architectural  arrangements  are  made  for  the  butsudan  ; an  alcove,  re- 
cess, or  other  contrivance,  often  so  arranged  as  to  be  concealed  from 
view  by  a sliding  panel  or  a little  door.  In  smaller  dwellings  it  may 
be  put  on  a shelf,  for  want  of  a better  place,  and  in  the  homes  of  the 
poor,  on  the  top  of  the  tansu,  or  clothes-chest.  It  is  never  placed 
so  high  as  the  kamidana,  but  seldom  at  a less  height  than  three  feet 
above  tbe  floor.  In  Mr.  Morse’s  own  illustration  of  a Bnddhist  house- 
hold shrine  (p.  226)  it  does  not  rest  on  the  floor  at  all,  but  on  the 
upper  shelf  of  a cupboard,  which  must  not  be  confounded  with  the  bu- 


SACRED  OBJECTS  (BUDDHIST) 


i 


THE  HOUSEHOLD  SHRINE. 


405 


the  images  or  pictures  of  Buddhist  divinities  usually 
there  inclosed,  — or,  at  least,  this  is  always  the  case 
when  the  honors  paid  them  are  given  according  to 
the  Buddhist  instead  of  the  Shinto  rite.  The  form 
of  the  butsudan  or  butsuma,  the  character  of  its  holy 
images,  its  ofuda,  or  its  pictures,  and  even  the  prayers 
said  before  it,  differ  according  to  the  fifteen  differ' 
ent  shu,  or  sects  ; and  a very  large  volume  would 
have  to  be  written  in  order  to  treat  the  subject  of  the 
butsuma  exhaustively.  Therefore  I must  content 
myself  with  stating  that  there  are  Buddhist  house- 
hold shrines  of  all  dimensions,  prices,  and  degrees  of 
magnificence;  and  that  the  butsudan  of  theShin-shu, 
although  to  me  the  least  interesting  of  all,  is  popu- 
larly considered  to  be  the  most  beautiful  in  design 
and  finish.  The  butsudan  of  a very  poor  household 
may  be  worth  a few  cents,  but  the  rich  devotee 
might  purchase  in  Kyoto  a shrine  worth  as  many 
thousands  of  yen  as  he  could  paj^ 

Though  the  forms  of  the  butsuma  and  the  charac- 
ter of  its  contents  may  greatly  vary,  the  form  of  the 
ancestral  or  mortuary  tablet  is  generally  that  repre- 
sented in  Fig.  4 of  the  illustrations  of  ihai  given  in 
this  Book.^  There  are  some  much  more  elaborate 

tsndan  — a very  small  one.  The  sketch  in  question  s°ems  to  have  been 
made  during  the  Fe.stival  of  the  Dead,  for  the  offerings  in  the  picture 
are  those  of  the  Bomraatsuri.  At  that  time  the  household  butsudan 
is  always  exposed  to  view,  and  often  moved  from  its  usual  place  in 
order  to  obtain  room  for  the  offerings  to  be  set  before  it.  To  place 
any  holy  object  on  the  floor  is  considered  by  the  Japanese  very  dis- 
respectful. As  for  Shinto  objects,  to  place  even  a mamori  on  the 
floor  is  deemed  a sin. 

1 Two  ihai  are  always  made  for  each  Buddhi.st  dead.  One,  usually 
larger  than  that  placed  in  the  family  shrine,  is  kept  in  the  temple  of 
which  the  deceased  was  a parishioner,  together  with  a cup  in  which 
tea  or  water  is  daily  poured  out  as  an  offering.  In  almost  any  large 


406  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


shapes,  costly  and  rare,  and  simpler  shapes  of  the 
cheapest  and  plainest  description;  but  the  form  thus 
illustrated  is  the  common  one  in  Izurno  and  the 
whole  San-indo  country.  There  are  differences, 
however,  of  size  ; and  the  ihai  of  a man  is  larger 
than  that  of  a woman,  and  has  a headpiece  also, 
wliich  the  tablet  of  a female  has  not;  while  a child’s 
ihai  is  always  very  small.  The  average  height  of  the 
ihai  made  for  a male  adult  is  a little  more  than 
a foot,  and  its  thickness  about  an  inch.  It  has  a 
top,  or  headpiece,  surmounted  by  the  symbol  of  the 
Hoshi-no-tama  or  Mystic  Gem,  and  ordinarily  dec- 
orated with  a cloud  - design  of  some  kind,  and  the 
pedestal  is  a lotus-flower  rising  out  of  clouds.  As  a 
general  rule  all  this  is  richly  lacquered  and  gilded ; 
the  tablet  itself  being  lacquered  in  black,  and  bearing 
the  posthumous  name,  or  kaimyo,  in  letters  of  gold, — 
ke7i-mn-ji-sJid-shin-ji.,  or  other  syllables  indicating  the 
supposed  virtues  of  the  departed.  The  poorest  peo- 
ple, unable  to  afford  such  handsome  tablets,  have 
ihai  made  of  plain  wood;  and  the  kaimyo  is  some- 
times simply  written  on  these  in  black  characters; 
but  more  commonly  it  is  written  upon  a strip  of  white 
paper,  which  is  then  pasted  upon  the  ihai  with  rice- 
paste.  The  living  name  is  perhaps  inscribed  upon 
the  back  of  the  tablet.  Such  tablets  accumulate,  of 
course,  with  the  passing  of  generations ; and  in  cer- 
tain homes  great  numbers  are  preserved. 

A beautiful  and  touching  custom  still  exists  in 
Izurno,  and  perhaps  throughout  Japan,  although 

temple,  thousands  of  such  ihai  may  be  seen,  arranged  in  rows,  tier 
above  tier,  — each  with  its  cup  before  it,  — for  even  the  souls  of  the 
dead  are  supposed  to  drink  tea.  Sometimes,  I fear,  the  offering  is 
forgotten,  for  I have  seen  rows  of  cups  containing  only  dust,  the 
fault,  perhaps,  of  some  lazy  acolyte. 


Ihal  of  ft  Rftmural  Ihai  of  ft  child  — Ordinnrv  form  of  Elahorfttcly  ornamon 

ft  little  boy  a luan’s  ihai  ihal  ol  n Samurai 

official 

SHINTO  IHAI.  (I2UMO)  BUDDHIST  IHAI.  (ZEN-SHU) 


THE  HOUSEHOLD  SHRINE. 


407 


much  less  common  than  it  used  to  be.  So  far  as  I 
can  learn,  however,  it  was  always  confined  to  the  cul- 
tivated classes.  When  a husband  dies,  two  ihai  are 
made,  in  case  the  wife  resolves  never  to  marry  again. 
On  one  of  these  the  kaimyo  of  the  dead  man  is 
painted  in  characters  of  gold,  and  on  the  other  that 
of  the  living  widow ; but,  in  the  latter  case,  the 
first  character  of  the  kaimyo  is  painted  in  red,  and 
the  other  characters  in  gold.  These  two  tablets  are 
then  placed  in  the  household  butsuma.  Two  larger 
ones,  similarly  inscribed,  are  placed  in  the  parish 
temple ; but  no  cup  is  set  before  that  of  the  wife. 
The  solitary  crimson  ideograph  signifies  a solemn 
pledge  to  remain  faithful  to  the  memory  of  the  dead. 
Furthermore,  the  wife  loses  her  living  name  among 
all  her  friends  and  relatives,  and  is  thereafter  ad- 
dressed only  by  a fragment  of  her  kaim}’©,  — as,  for 
example,  “ Shin-toku-in-San,”  an  abbreviation  of  the 
much  longer  and  more  sonorous  posthumous  name, 
Shin-toku-in-den-joyo-teis6-daishi.^  Thus  to  be  called 
by  one’s  kaimyo  is  at  once  an  honor  to  the  memoiy 
of  the  husband  and  the  constancy  of  the  bereaved 
wife.  A precisely  similar  pledge  is  taken  by  a man 
after  the  loss  of  a wife  to  whom  he  was  passionately 
attached ; and  one  crimson  letter  upon  his  ihai  regis- 
ters the  vow  not  only  in  the  home  but  also  in  the 
place  of  public  worship.  But  the  widower  is  never 
called  by^his  kaimyo,  as  is  the  widow. 

The  first  religious  duty  of  the  morning  in  a Bud- 
dhist household  is  to  set  before  the  tablets  of  the 

^ This  is  a fine  example  of  a samurai  kaimyS.  The  kaimyo  of 
kwazoku  or  samurai  are  different  from  those  of  humbler  dead ; and 
a Japanese,  by  a single  glance  at  an  ihai,  can  tell  at  once  to  what  class 
of  society  the  deceased  belonged,  by  the  Buddhist  words  used. 

VOL.  II. 


408  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


dead  a little  cup  of  tea,  made  with  the  first  hot  water 
prepared,  — 0-Hotoke-San-ni-o-cha-to-ageru.^  Daily 
offerings  of  boiled  rice  are  also  made ; and  fresh 
flowers  are  put  in  the  shrine  vases ; and  incense  — 
although  not  allowed  by  Shinto  — is  burned  before 
the  tablets.  At  night,  and  also  during  the  day  upon 
certain  festivals,  both  candles  and  a small  oil-lamp 
are  lighted  in  the  butsuma,  — a lamp  somewhat  dif- 
ferently shaped  from  the  lamp  of  the  miya  and  called 
rinto.  On  the  day  of  each  month  corresponding  to 
the  date  of  death  a little  repast  is  served  before  the 
tablets,  consisting  of  shojin-rydri  only,  the  vegeta- 
rian food  of  the  Buddhists.  But  as  Shinto  family 
worship  has  its  special  annual  festival,  which  en- 
dures from  the  first  to  the  third  day  of  the  new  year, 
so  Buddhist  ancestor-worship  has  its  yearly  Bonku, 
or  Boramatsuri,  lasting  from  the  thirteenth  to  the 
sixteenth  day  of  the  seventh  month.  This  is  the 
Buddhist  Feast  of  Souls.  Then  the  butsuma  is 
decorated  to  the  utmost,  special  offerings  of  food  and 
of  flowers  are  made,  and  all  the  house  is  made  beau- 
tiful to  welcome  the  coming  of  the  ghostly  visitors. 

Now  Shinto,  like  Buddhism,  has  its  ihai;  but  these 
are  of  the  simplest  possible  shape  and  material,  — 
mere  slips  of  plain  white  wood.  The  average  height 
is  only  about  eight  inches.  These  tablets  are  either 
placed  in  a special  miya  kept  in  a different  room  from 
that  in  which  the  shrine  of  the  Kami  is  erected,  or 
else  simply  arranged  on  a small  shelf  called  by  the 
people  3Iitama-San-no-tana,  — “the  Shelf  of  the  Au- 

1 “ Presenting  the  honorable  tea  to  the  august  Buddhas,”  — for  by 
Buddhist  faith  it  is  hoped,  if  not  believed,  that  the  dead  become  Bud- 
dlias  and  escape  the  sorrows  of  further  transmigration.  Thus  the 
expression  “ is  dead  ” is  often  rendered  in  Japanese  by  the  phrase  “ is 
become  a Buddha.” 


THE  HOUSEHOLD  SHRINE. 


409 


gust  Spirits.”  The  shelf  or  the  shrine  of  the  an- 
cestors and  household  dead  is  placed  always  at  a 
considerable  height  in  the  mitamaya  or  soreisha  (as 
the  Spirit  Chamber  is  sometimes  called),  just  as  is  the 
miya  of  the  Kami  in  the  other  apartment.  Some- 
times no  tablets  are  used,  the  name  being  simply 
painted  upon  the  woodwork  of  the  Spirit  Shrine.  But 
Shinto  has  no  kaimyo : the  living  name  of  the  dead 
is  written  upon  the  ihai,  with  the  sole  addition  of  the 
word  '•‘■Mitama”  (Spirit).  And  monthly  upon  the 
day  corresponding  to  the  menstrual  date  of  death, 
offerings  of  fish,  wine,  and  other  food  are  made  to 
the  spirits,  accompanied  by  special  prayer.^  The 
Mitama-San  have  also  their  particular  lamps  and 
flower-vases,  and,  though  in  lesser  degree,  are  honored 
with  rites  like  those  of  the  Kami. 

The  prayers  uttered  before  the  ihai  of  either  faith 
begin  with  the  respective  religious  foi'mulas  of  Shinto 
or  of  Buddhism.  The  Shintoist,  clapping  his  hands 
thrice  or  four  times, ^ first  utters  the  sacramental 
Harai-tamai.  The  Buddhist,  according  to  his  sect, 
murmurs  Namu-myo-ho-ren-ge-kyo,  or  Namu  Amida 

^ The  idea  underlying  this  offering  of  food  and  drink  to  the  dead, 
or  to  the  gods,  is  not  so  irrational  as  unthinking  critics  have  declared 
it  to  be.  The  dead  are  not  supposed  to  consume  any  of  the  visible 
substance  of  the  food  set  before  them,  for  they  are  thought  to  be 
in  an  ethereal  state  requiring  only  the  most  vapory  kind  of  nutrition. 
The  idea  is  that  they  absorb  only  the  invisible  essence  of  the  food. 
And  as  fruits  and  other  such  offerings  lose  something  of  their  flavor 
after  having  been  exposed  to  the  air  for  several  hours,  this  slight 
change  would  have  been  taken  in  other  days  as  evidence  that  the 
spirits  had  feasted  upon  them.  Scientific  education  necessarily  dissi- 
pates these  consoling  illusions,  and  with  them  a host  of  tender  and 
beautiful  fancies  as  to  the  relation  between  the  living  and  the  dead. 

- I find  that  the  number  of  clappings  differs  in  different  provinces 
somewhat.  In  Kyushu  the  clapping  is  very  long,  especially  before 
the  prayer  to  the  Eising  Sun. 


410  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


Butsu,  or  some  other  holy  words  of  prayer  or  of 
praise  to  the  Buddha,  ere  commencing  his  prayer  to 
the  ancestors.  The  words  said  to  them  are  seldom 
spoken  aloud,  either  by  Shintoist  or  Buddhist : they 
are  either  whispered  very  low  under  the  breath,  cr 
shaped  only  within  the  heart. 


X. 

At  nightfall  in  Izumo  homes  the  lamps  of  the  gods 
and  of  the  ancestors  are  kindled,  either  by  a trusted 
servant  or  by  some  member  of  the  family.  Shinto 
orthodox  regulations  require  that  the  lamps  should 
be  filled  with  pure  vegetable  oil  only,  — tomoshi- 
abura, — and  oil  of  I’apeseed  is  customarily  used. 
However,  there  is  an  evident  inclination  among  the 
poorer  classes  to  substitute  a microscopic  kerosene 
lamp  for  the  ancient  form  of  utensil.  But  by  the 
strictly  orthodox  this  is  held  to  be  very  wrong,  and 
even  to  light  the  lamps  with  a match  is  somewhat 
heretical.  For  it  is  not  supposed  that  matches  are 
always  made  with  pure  substances,  and  the  lights  of 
the  Kami  should  be  kindled  only  with  purest  fire,  — 
that  holy  natural  fire  which  lies  hidden  within  all 
things.  Therefore  in  some  little  closet  in  the  home  of 
any  strictly  orthodox  Shinto  family  there  is  always 
a small  box  containing  the  ancient  instruments  used 
for  the  lighting  of  holy  fire.  These  consist  of  the 
hi-uchi-ishi,  or  “ fire-strike-stone ; ” the  hi-uchi-gane, 
or  steel ; the  hokuchi,  or  tinder,  made  of  dried  moss  ; 
and  the  tsukegi,  fine  slivers  of  resinous  pine.  A 
little  tinder  is  laid  upon  the  flint  and  set  smouldering 
with  a few  strokes  of  the  steel,  and  blown  upon  until 
it  flames.  A slip  of  pine  is  then  ignited  at  this  flame, 
and  with  it  the  lamps  of  the  ancestors  and  the  gods 


THE  HOUSEHOLD  SHRINE. 


411 


are  lighted.  If  several  great  deities  are  represented 
in  the  miya  or  upon  the  kamidana  by  several  ofuda, 
then  a separate  lamp  is  sometimes  lighted  for  each  ; 
and  if  there  be  a butsuina  in  the  dwelling,  its  tapers 
or  lamp  are  lighted  at  the  same  time. 

Although  the  use  of  the  flint  and  steel  for  lighting 
the  lamps  of  the  gods  will  probably  have  become  ob- 
solete within  another  generation,  it  still  prevails 
largely  in  Izumo,  especially  in  the  country  districts. 
Even  where  the  safety-match  has  entirely  sup- 
planted the  orthodox  utensils,  the  orthodox  sentiment 
shows  itself  in  the  matter  of  the  choice  of  matches 
to  be  used.  Foreign  matches  are  inadmissible:  the 
native  matchmaker  quite  successfully  represented  that 
foreign  matches  contained  phosphorus  “ made  from 
the  bones  of  dead  animals,”  and  that  to  kindle  the 
lights  of  the  Kami  with  such  unholy  fire  would  be 
sacrilege.  In  other  parts  of  Japan  the  matchmakers 
stamped  upon  their  boxes  the  words : “ Saikyo  go 
honzon  yo  ” (Fit  for  the  use  of  the  August  High  Tem- 
ple of  Saikyo^).  But  Shinto  sentiment  in  Izumo 
was  too  strong  to  be  affected  much  by  any  such  decla- 
ration : indeed,  the  recommendation  of  the  matches 
as  suitable  for  use  in  a Shin-shu  temple  was  of  itself 
sufficient  to  prejudice  Shintoists  against  them.  Ac- 
cordingly special  precautions  had  to  be  taken  before 
safety-matches  could  be  satisfactorily  introduced  into 
the  Province  of  the  Gods.  Izumo  match-boxes  now 
bear  the  inscription : “ Pure.,  and  jit  to  use  for  kin- 
dling the  lamps  of  the  Kami.,  or  of  the  Hotoke  ! ” 

The  inevitable  danger  to  all  things  in  Japan 
1 Another  name  for  Kyoto,  the  Sacred  City  of  Japanese  Buddhism. 


412  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


is  fire.  It  is  tlie  traditional  rule  that  when  a house 
takes  fire,  the  first  objects  to  be  saved,  if  possible, 
are  the  household  gods  and  the  tablets  of  the  ances- 
tors. It  is  even  said  that  if  these  are  saved,  most 
of  the  family  valuables  are  certain  to  be  saved,  and 
that  if  these  are  lost,  all  is  lost. 


XI. 

The  terms  soreislia  and  mitamaya,  as  used  in 
Izumo,  may,  I am  told,  signify  either  the  small  miya 
in  which  the  Shinto  ihai  (usually  made  of  cherry- 
wood)  is  kept,  or  that  part  of  the  dwelling  in  which  it 
is  placed,  and  where  the  offei’ings  are  made.  These, 
by  all  who  can  afford  it,  are  served  upon  tables  of 
plain  white  wood,  and  of  the  same  high  narrow  form 
as  the  tables  upon  which  offerings  are  made  in  the 
temples  and  at  public  funeral  ceremonies. 

The  most  ordinary  form  of  prayer  addressed  to  the 
ancient  ancestors  in  the  household  cult  of  Shinto  is 
not  uttered  aloud.  After  pronouncing  the  initial 
formula  of  all  popular  Shinto  prayer,  “ Harai-tamai^' 
etc.,  the  worshiper  says,  with  his  heart  only,  — 

“ Spirits  august  of  our  far-off  ancestors,  ye  fore- 
fathers of  the  generations,  and  of  our  families  and  of 
our  kindred,  unto  you,  the  founders  of  our  homes,  we 
this  day  utter  the  gladness  of  our  thanks.” 

In  the  family  cult  of  the  Buddhists  a distinction  is 
made  between  the  household  Hotoke  — the  souls  of 
those  long  dead  — and  the  souls  of  those  but  recently 
deceased.  These  last  are  called  Shin-botoke,  “ new 
Buddhas,”  or  more  strictly,  “the  newl}^  dead.”  No 
direct  request  for  any  supernatural  favor  is  made  to 
a Shin-botoke ; for,  though  respectfully  called  Ho- 


THE  HOUSEHOLD  SHRINE. 


413 


toke,  the  freshly  departed  soul  is  not  really  deemed 
to  have  reached  Buddhahood:  it  is  only  on  the  long 
road  thither,  and  is  in  need  itself,  perhaps,  of  aid, 
rather  than  capable  of  giving  aid.  Indeed,  among 
the  deeply  pious  its  condition  is  a matter  of  affec- 
tionate concern.  And  especially  is  this  the  case  when 
a little  child  dies ; for  it  is  thought  that  the  soul  of 
an  infant  is  feeble  and  exposed  to  many  dangers. 
Wherefore  a mother,  speaking  to  the  departed  soul 
of  her  child,  will  advise  it,  admonish  it,  command  it 
tenderly,  as  if  addressing  a living  son  or  daughter. 
The  ordinary  words  said  in  Izumo  homes  to  any 
Shin-botoke  take  rather  the  form  of  adjuration  or 
counsel  than  of  prayer,  such  as  these  : — 

'•'■Jobutsu  seyd”  or  “•Jobutsu  shimasare.”  [Do 
thou  become  a Buddha.] 

“ 3Iayd  na  yoN  [Go  not  astray ; or.  Be  never 
deluded.] 

Miren-wo  nokorazu."  [Suffer  no  regret  (for  this 
world)  to  linger  with  thee.] 

These  prayers  are  never  uttered  aloud.  Much 
more  in  accordance  with  the  Occidental  idea  of 
prayer  is  the  following,  uttered  by  Shin-shu  believers 
on  behalf  of  a Shin-botoke : — 

“ 0-muhai  hudasare  Amida- Sama."  [Vouchsafe, 
O Lord  Amida,  augustly  to  welcome  (this  soul).] 
Needless  to  say  that  ancestor-worship,  although 
adopted  in  China  and  Japan  into  Buddhism,  is  not 
of  Buddhist  origin.  Needless  also  to  say  that  Bud- 
dhism discountenances  suicide.  Yet  in  Japan,  anxi- 
ety about  the  condition  of  the  soul  of  the  departed 
often  caused  suicide,  — or  at  least  justified  it  on  the 
part  of  those  who,  though  accepting  Buddhist  dogma, 
might  adhere  to  primitive  custom.  Retainers  killed 


414  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


themselves  in  the  belief  that  by  dying  they  might 
give  to  the  soul  of  their  lord  or  lady,  counsel,  aid, 
and  service.  Thus  in  the  novel  Hogen-no-mono- 
gatari,  a retainer  is  made  to  say  after  the  death  of 
his  young  master : — 

“ Over  the  mountain  of  Shide,  over  the  ghostly 
River  of  Sanzu,  who  will  conduct  him?  If  he  be 
afraid,  will  he  not  call  my  name,  as  he  was  wont  to 
do  ? Surely  better  that,  by  slaying  myself,  I go  to 
serve  him  as  of  old,  than  to  linger  here,  and  mourn 
for  him  in  vain.” 

In  Buddhist  household  worship,  the  prayers  ad- 
dressed to  the  family  Hotoke  proper,  the  souls  of 
those  long  dead,  are  very  different  from  the  addresses 
made  to  the  Shin-botoke.  The  following  are  a few 
examples : they  are  always  said  under  the  breath. 

Kanai  anzen."  [(Vouchsafe)  that  our  family 
may  be  preserved.] 

'■'•Enmei  sakusai."  [That  we  may  enjoy  long  life 
without  sorrow.] 

'''•  Shobai  hanjo."  [That  our  business  may  prosper.] 
Said  only  by  merchants  and  tradesmen.] 

SMson  chokin.”  [That  the  perpetuity  of  our 
descent  may  be  assured.] 

“ Onteki  taisa7i.”  [That  our  enemies  be  scattered.] 

'■’■Yakubyo  shometsu.”  [That  pestilence  may  not 
come  nigh  us.] 

Some  of  the  above  are  used  also  by  Shinto  wor- 
shipers. The  old  samurai  still  repeat  the  special 
prayers  of  their  caste  : — 

“ Tenka  taihei."  [That  long  peace  may  prevail 
throughout  the  world.] 

Bu-un  chokyu."  [That  we  may  have  eternal 
good-fortune  in  war.] 


THE  HOUSEHOLD  SHRINE.  415 

Ka-ei-manzoTcu."  [That  our  house  (^family')  may 
forever  remain  fortunate.] 

But  besides  these  silent  formulae,  any  prayers 
prompted  by  the  heart,  whether  of  supplication  or  of 
gratitude,  may,  of  course,  be  repeated.  Such  prayers 
are  said,  or  rather  thought,  in  the  speech  of  daily 
life.  The  following  little  prayer  uttered  by  an  Izumo 
mother  to  the  ancestral  spirit,  besought  on  behalf  of 
a siqk  child,  is  an  example  : — 

“ 0-kage  ni  kodomo  no  byoki  mo  zenkwai  itashima- 
shite,  arigato-gozarimam!"  [By  thine  august  influ- 
ence the  illness  of  my  child  has  passed  away ; — I 
thank  thee.] 

“ 0-kage  ni  ” literally  signifies  “ in  the  august 
shadow  of.”  There  is  a ghostly  beauty  in  the  origi- 
nal phrase  that  neither  a free  nor  yet  a precise 
translation  can  preserve. 


XII. 

Thus,  in  this  home-worship  of  the  Far  East,  by 
love  the  dead  are  made  divine  ; and  the  foreknow- 
ledge of  this  tender  apotheosis  must  temper  with 
consolation  the  natural  melancholy  of  age.  Never 
in  Japan  are  the  dead  so  quickly  forgotten  as  with 
us : by  simple  faith  they  are  deemed  still  to  dwell 
among  their  beloved ; and  their  place  within  the 
home  remains  ever  holy.  And  the  aged  patriarch 
about  to  pass  away  knows  that  loving  lips  will 
nightly  murmur  to  the  memory  of  him  before  the 
household  shrine ; that  faithful  hearts  will  beseech 
him  in  their  pain  and  bless  him  in  their  joy ; that 
gentle  hands  will  place  before  his  ihai  pure  offerings 
of  fruits  and  flowers,  and  dainty  repasts  of  the  things 
which  he  was  wont  to  like ; and  will  pour  out  for 


416  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAP,  JAPAN. 


him,  into  the  little  cup  of  ghosts  and  gods,  the  fra- 
grant tea  of  guests  or  the  amber  rice-wine.  Strange 
changes  are  coming  upon  the  land : old  customs  are 
vanishing;  old  beliefs  are  weakening;  the  thoughts 
of  to-day  will  not  be  the  thoughts  of  another  age,  — 
but  of  all  this  he  knows  happily  nothing  in  his  own 
quaint,  simple,  beautiful  Izumo.  He  dreams  that  for 
him,  as  for  his  fathers,  the  little  lamp  will  burn  on 
through  the  generations ; he  sees,  in  softest  fancy, 
the  yet  unborn  — the  children  of  his  children’s  chil- 
dren — clapping  their  tiny  hands  in  Shinto  prayer, 
and  making  filial  obeisance  before  the  little  dusty 
tablet  that  bears  his  unforgotten  name. 


XVIII 


OF  WOMEN’S  HAIR. 


I. 

The  hair  of  the  younger  daughter  of  the  family  is 
very  long ; and  it  is  a spectacle  of  no  small  interest 
to  see  it  dressed.  It  is  dressed  once  in  every  three 
days ; and  the  operation,  which  costs  four  sen,  is  ac« 
knowledged  to  I’equire  one  hour.  As  a matter  of  fact 
it  requires  nearly  two.  The  hairdresser  (kamiyui) 
first  sends  her  maiden  apprentice,  who  cleans  the 
hair,  washes  it,  perfumes  it,  and  combs  it  with  ex-  , 
traordinary  combs  of  at  least  five  different  kinds.  So 
thoroughly  is  the  hair  cleansed  that  it  remains  for 
three  days,  or  even  four,  immaculate  beyond  our 
Occidental  conception  of  things.  In  the  morning, 
during  the  dusting  time,  it  is  carefully  covered  with 
a handkerchief  or  a little  blue  towel ; and  the  curious 
Japanese  wooden  pillow,  which  supports  the  neck, 
not  the  head,  renders  it  possible  to  sleep  at  ease  with- 
out disarranging  the  marvelous  structure.^ 

After  the  apprentice  has  finished  her  part  of  the 
work,  the  hairdresser  herself  appears,  and  begins  to 
build  the  coiffure.  For  this  task  she  uses,  besides 
the  extraordinary  variety  of  combs,  fine  loops  of  gilt 


1 Formerly  both  sexes  used  the  same  pillow  for  the  same  reason. 
The  long  hair  of  a samurai  youth,  tied  up  in  an  elaborate  knot,  re- 
quited much  time  to  arrange.  Since  it  has  become  the  almost 
universal  custom  to  wear  the  hair  short,  the  men  have  adopted  a 
pillow  shaped  like  a small  bolster. 


418  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


thread  or  colored  paper  twine,  dainty  bits  of  deli- 
ciously tinted  crape-silk,  delicate  steel  springs,  and 
curious  little  basket-shaped  things  over  which  the 
hair  is  moulded  into  the  required  forms  before  being 
fixed  in  place. 

The  kamiyui  also  brings  razors  with  her ; for  the 
Japanese  girl  is  shaved,  — cheeks,  ears,  brows,  chin, 
even  nose  ! What  is  there  to  shave  ? Only  that 
peachy  floss  which  is  the  velvet  of  the  finest  human 
skin,  but  which  Japanese  taste  removes.  There  is, 
however,  another  use  for  the  razor.  All  maidens 
bear  the  signs  of  their  maidenhood  in  the  form  of  a 
little  round  spot,  about  an  inch  in  diameter,  shaven 
clean  upon  the  very  top  of  the  head.  This  is  only 
partially  concealed  by  a band  of  hair  brought  back 
from  the  forehead  across  it,  and  fastened  to  the 
back  hair.  The  girl-baby’s  head  is  totally  shaved. 
When  a few  years  old  the  little  creature’s  hair  is  al- 
lowed to  grow  except  at  the  top  of  the  head,  where  a 
large  tonsure  is  maintained.  But  the  size  of  the  ton- 
sure  diminishes  j'ear  by  year,  until  it  shrinks  after 
childhood  to  the  small  spot  above  described ; and 
this,  too,  vanishes  after  marriage,  when  a still  more 
complicated  fashion  of  wearing  the  hair  is  adopted. 


II. 

Such  absolutely  straight  dark  hair  as  that  of  most 
Japanese  women  might  seem,  to  Occidental  ideas  at 
least,  ill-suited  to  the  highest  possibilities  of  the  art 
of  the  coiffeuse.^  But  the  skill  of  the  kamiyui  has 

1 It  is  an  error  to  suppose  that  all  Japanese  have  blue-black  hair. 
There  are  two  distinct  racial  types.  In  one  the  hair  is  a deep  brown 
instead  of  a pure  black,  and  is  also  softer  and  finer.  Rarely,  but 
very  rarely,  one  may  see  a Japanese  chevdure  having  a natural  ten- 


OF  HAIR. 


419 


made  it  tractable  to  every  aesthetic  whim.  Ringlets, 
indeed,  are  unknown,  and  curling  irons.  But  what 
wonderful  and  beautiful  shapes  the  hair  of  the  girl 
is  made  to  assume  : volutes,  jets,  whirls,  eddyings, 
foliations,  each  passing  into  the  other  blandly  as  a 
linking  of  brush-strokes  in  the  writing  of  a Chinese 
master!  Far  beyond  the  skill  of  the  Parisian  coif, 
feuse  is  the  art  of  tlie  kainiyui.  From  the  mythical 
era  ^ of  the  race,  Japanese  ingenuity  has  exhausted 
itself  in  the  invention  and  the  improvement  of  pretty 
devices  for  the  dressing  of  woman’s  hair  ; and  prob- 
ably there  have  never  been  so  many  beautiful  fashions 
of  wearing  it  in  any  other  country  as  there  have  been 
in  Japan.  These  have  changed  through  the  centuries ; 
sometimes  becoming  wondrously  intricate  of  design, 
sometimes  exquisitely  simple, — as  in  that  gracious 
custom,  recorded  for  us  in  so  many  quaint  drawings, 
of  allowing  the  long  black  tresses  to  flow  unconfined 
below  the  waist.^  But  every  mode  of  which  we 
have  any  pictorial  record  had  its  own  striking  charm. 
Indian,  Chinese,  IMalayan,  Korean  ideas  of  beauty 
found  their  way  to  the  Land  of  the  Gods,  and  were 
appropriated  and  transfigured  by  the  finer  native 
conceptions  of  comeliness.  Buddhism,  too,  which  so 
profoundly  influenced  all  Japanese  art  and  thought, 
may  possibly  have  influenced  fashions  of  wearing  the 

dency  to  ripple.  For  curious  reasons,  which  cannot  be  stated  here,  an 
Izumo  woman  is  very  much  ashamed  of  having  wavy  hair,  — more 
ashamed  than  she  wovild  be  of  a natural  deformity. 

^ Even  in  the  time  of  the  writing  of  the  Kojiki  the  art  of  arranging 
the  hair  must  have  been  somewhat  developed.  See  Professor  Cham- 
berlain’s iutroduction  to  translation,  p.  xxxi. ; also  vol.  i.  section  ix. ; 
vol.  vii.  section  xii. ; vol.  ix.  section  xviii.,  et  passim. 

An  art  expert  can  decide  the  age  of  an  unsigned  kakemono  or 
other  work  of  art  in  which  human  figures  appear,  by  the  style  of  the 
coiffure  of  the  female  personages. 


420  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


hair ; for  its  female  divinities  appear  with  the  most 
beautiful  coiffures.  Notice  the  hair  of  a Kwannon 
or  a Benten,  and  the  tresses  of  the  Tennin,  — those 
angel-maidens  who  float  in  azure  upon  the  ceilings  of 
the  great  temples. 

ni. 

The  particular  attractiveness  of  the  modem  stvles 
is  the  way  in  which  the  hair  is  made  to  serve  as  an 
elaborate  nimbus  for  the  features,  giving  delightful 
relief  to  Avhatever  of  fairness  or  sweetness  the  young 
face  may  possess.  Then  behind  this  charming  black 
aureole  is  a riddle  of  graceful  loopings  and  weavings 
whereof  neither  the  beginning  nor  the  ending  can 
possibly  be  discerned.  Only  the  kamiyui  knows  the 
key  to  that  riddle.  And  the  whole  is  held  in  place 
with  curious  ornamental  combs,  and  shot  through 
with  long  fine  pins  of  gold,  silver,  nacre,  transparent 
tortoise-shell,  or  lacquered  wood,  with  cunningly  car- 
ven  heads.i 

lY. 

Not  less  than  fourteen  different  ways  of  dressing 
the  hair  are  practiced  by  the  eoiffeuses  of  Tzumo ; but 
doubtless  in  the  capital,  and  in  some  of  the  larger 
cities  of  eastern  Japan,  the  art  is  much  more  elab- 
orately developed.  The  haii’dressers  (Jcamiyiii)  go 
from  house  to  house  to  exercise  their  calling,  visit- 
ing their  clients  upon  fixed  days  at  certain  regular 
hours.  The  hair  of  little  girls  from  seven  to  eight 
years  old  is  in  Matsue  dressed  usually  after  the  style 

1 The  principal  and  indispensable  hair-pin  (kanzashi),  usnallv  about 
seven  inches  long,  is  split,  and  its  well-tempered  double  shaft  can  be 
used  like  a small  pair  of  chopsticks  for  picking  up  small  things.  The 
head  is  terminated  by  a tiny  spoon-shaped  projection,  which  has  a 
special  purpose  in  the  Japanese  toilette. 


OF  WOMEN'S  HAIR. 


421 


called  0-tabako-bon,  unless  it  be  simply  “banged.” 
In  the  0-tabako-bon  (“honorable  smoking -box” 
style)  the  hair  is  cut  to  the  length  of  about  four 
inches  all  round  except  above  the  forehead,  where  it 
is  clipped  a little  shorter  ; and  on  the  summit  of  the 
head  it  is  allowed  to  gi’ow  longer  and  is  gathered  up 
into  a peculiarly  shaped  knot,  which  justifies  the 
curious  name  of  the  coiffure.  As  soon  as  the  girl  be- 
comes old  enough  to  go  to  a female  public  day-school, 
her  hair  is  dressed  in  the  pretty,  simple  style  called 
katsurashita,  or  perhaps  in  the  new,  ugly,  semi-foreign 
“ bundle-style  ” called  sokuhatsu,  which  has  become 
the  regulation  fashion  in  boarding-schools.  For  the 
daughters  of  the  poor,  and  even  for  most  of  those  of 
the  middle  classes,  the  public-school  period  is  rather 
brief  ; their  studies  usually  cease  a few  years  before 
they  are  marriageable,  and  girls  marry  very  early  in 
Japan.  The  maiden’s  first  elaborate  coiffure  is  ar- 
ranged for  her  when  she  reaches  the  age  of  fourteen 
or  fifteen,  at  earliest.  From  twelve  to  fourteen  her 
hair  is  dressed  in  the  fashion  called  Omoyedzuki ; 
then  the  style  is  changed  to  the  beautiful  coiffure 
called  jorowage.  There  are  various  forms  of  this 
style,  more  or  less  complex.  A couple  of  years  later, 
the  jorowage  yields  place  in  the  turn  to  the  shinjocho  ^ 
(“  new-butterfly  ” style),  or  the  shimada,  also  called 
takawage.  The  shinjocho  style  is  common,  is  worn 
by  w’omen  of  various  ages,  and  is  not  considered  very 
genteel.  The  shimada,  exquisitely  elaborate,  is  ; but 

1 The  shinjocho  is  also  called  IchoKaeshi  by  old  people,  although  the 
original  Ichogaeshi  was  somewhat  different.  The  samurai  girls  used 
to  wear  their  hair  in  the  true  Ichogaeshi  manner;  the  name  is  derived 
from  the  icho-tree  {Salisburia  andiantifolia),  whose  leaves  have  a queer 
shape,  almost  like  that  of  a duck’s  foot.  Certain  bands  of  the  hair  in 
this  coiffure  bore  a resemblance  in  form  to  iclio-leaves. 


422  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


the  more  respectable  the  family,  the  smaller  the  form 
of  this  coiffure ; geisha  and  joro  wear  a larger  and 
loftier  variety  of  it,  which  properly  answers  to  the 
name  taka  wage,  or  “ high  coiffure.”  Between  eigh- 
teen and  twenty  years  of  age  the  maiden  again  ex- 
changes this  style  for  another  termed  Tenjingaeshi ; 
between  twenty  and  twenty-four  years  of  age  she 
adopts  the  fashion  called  mitsuwage,  or  the  “triple 
coiffure  ” of  three  loops ; and  a somewhat  similar  but 
still  more  complicated  coiffure,  called  mitsuwakudzu- 
shi  is  worn  by  young  women  of  from  twenty-five  to 
twenty-eight.  Up  to  that  age  every  change  in  the 
fashion  of  wearing  the  hair  has  been  in  the  direction 
of  elaborateness  and  complexity.  But  after  twenty- 
eight  a Japanese  woman  is  no  longer  considered 
young,  and  there  is  only  one  more  coiffure  for  her, 
— the  mochiriwage  or  bobai,  the  simple  and  rather 
ugly  style  adopted  by  old  women. 

But  the  girl  who  marries  wears  her  hair  in  a fash- 
ion quite  different  from  any  of  the  preceding.  The 
most  beautiful,  the  most _ elaborate,  and  the  most 
costly  of  all  modes  is  the  bride’s  coiffure,  called  hana- 
yome,  a word  literally  signifying  “ flower-wife.” 
The  structure  is  dainty  as  its  name,  and  must  be  seen 
to  be  artistically  appreciated.  Afterwards  the  wife 
wears  her  hair  in  the  styles  called  kumesa  or  maru- 
wage,  another  name  for  which  is  katsuyama.  The 
kumesa  style  is  not  genteel,  and  is  the  coiffure  of  the 
poor  ; the  maruwage  or  katsuyama  is  refined.  In  for- 
mer times  the  samurai  women  wore  their  hair  in  two 
particular  styles : the  maiden’s  coiffure  was  ichogae- 
shi,  and  that  of  the  married  folk  katahajishi.  It  is 
still  possible  to  see  in  INIatsue  a few  katahajishi  coif- 
fures. 


OF  WOMEN'S  HAIR. 


423 


V. 

The  family  kamiyui,  0-Koto-San,  the  most  skillful 
of  her  craft  in  Izumo,  is  a little  woman  of  about 
thirty,  still  quite  attractive.  About  her  neck  there 
are  three  soft  pretty  lines,  forming  what  connois- 
seurs of  beauty  term  “the  necklace  of  Venus.”  This 
is  a rare  charm ; but  it  once  nearly  proved  the  ruin 
of  Koto.  The  story  is  a curious  one. 

Koto  had  a rival  at  the  beginning  of  her  profes- 
sional career,  — a woman  of  considerable  skill  as  a 
eoiffeuse,  but  of  malignant  disposition,  named  Jin. 
Jin  gradually  lost  all  her  respectable  custom,  and 
little  Koto  became  the  fashionable  hairdresser.  But 
her  old  rival,  filled  with  jealous  hate,  invented  a 
wicked  story  about  Koto,  and  the  story  found  root 
in  the  rich  soil  of  old  Izumo  superstition,  and  grew 
fantastically.  The  idea  of  it  had  been  suggested  to 
Jin’s  cunning  mind  by  those  three  soft  lines  about 
Koto’s  neck.  She  declared  that  Koto  had  a “Nuke- 
KUBI.” 

What  is  a nuke-kubi  ? “ Kubi  ” signifies  either  the 
neck  or  head.  “ Xukeru  ” means  to  creep,  to  skulk, 
to  prowl,  to  slip  away  stealthily.  To  have  a nuke- 
kubi  is  to  have  a head  that  detaches  itself  from  the 
body,  and  prowls  about  at  night  — by  itself. 

Koto  has  been  twice  married,  and  her  second  match 
was  a happy  one.  But  her  first  husband  caused  her 
much  trouble,  and  ran  away  from  her  at  last,  in  com- 
pany with  some  worthless  woman.  Nothing  was 
ever  heard  of  him  afterward,  — so  that  Jin  thought 
it  quite  safe  to  invent  a nightmare-story  to  account 
for  his  disappearance.  She  said  that  he  abandoned 
Koto  because,  on  awaking  one  night,  he  saw  his 

VOL.  u. 


424  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


young  wife’s  head  rise  from  the  pillow,  and  her  neck 
lengthen  like  a great  white  serpent,  while  the  rest  of 
her  body  remained  motionless.  He  saw  the  head, 
supported  by  the  ever  lengthening  neck,  enter  the 
farther  apartment  and  drink  all  the  oil  in  the  lamps, 
and  then  return  to  the  pillow  slowly,  — the  neck 
simultaneously  contracting.  “ Then  he  rose  up  and 
fled  away  from  the  house  in  great  fear,”  said  Jin. 

As  one  story  begets  another,  all  sorts  of  queer 
rumors  soon  began  to  circulate  about  poor  Koto. 
There  was  a tale  that  some  police-officer,  late  at 
night,  saw  a woman’s  head  without  a body,  nibbling 
fruit  from  a tree  overhanging  some  garden-wall ; and 
that,  knowing  it  to  be  a nuke-kubi,  he  struck  it  with 
the  flat  of  his  sword.  It  shrank  away  as  swiftly  as  a 
bat  flies,  but  not  before  he  had  been  able  to  recognize 
the  face  of  the  kamiyui.  “ Oh ! it  is  quite  true  I ” 
declared  Jin,  the  morning  after  the  alleged  occur- 
rence ; “ and  if  you  don’t  believe  it,  send  word  to 
Koto  that  you  want  to  see  her.  She  can’t  go  out : 
her  face  is  all  swelled  up.”  Now  the  last  statement 
was  fact,  — for  Koto  had  a very  severe  toothache  at 
that  time,  — and  the  fact  helped  the  falsehood.  And 
the  story  found  its  way  to  the  local  newspaper,  which 
published  it  — only  as  a strange  example  of  popular 
credulity  ; and  Jin  said,  “ Am  I a teller  of  the  truth? 
See,  the  paper  has  printed  it ! ” 

Wherefore  crowds  of  curious  people  gathered  be- 
fore Koto’s  little  house,  and  made  her  life  such  a 
bui'den  to  her  that  her  husband  had  to  watch  her  con- 
stantly to  keep  her  from  killing  herself.  Fortunately 
she  had  good  friends  in  the  family  of  the  Governor, 
where  she  had  been  employed  for  years  as  eoiffense  ; 
and  the  Governor,  hearing  of  the  wickedness,  wrote 


OF  WOMEN'S  HAIR. 


425 


a public  denunciation  of  it,  and  set  liis  name  to  it, 
and  printed  it.  Now  the  people  of  Matsue  rever- 
enced their  old  samurai  Governor  as  if  he  were  a 
god,  and  believed  his  least  word;  and  seeing  what 
he  had  written,  they  became  ashamed,  and  also  de- 
nounced the  lie  and  the  liar  ; and  the  little  hair- 
dresser soon  became  more  prosperous  than  before 
through  popular  sympathy. 

Some  of  the  most  extraordinary  beliefs  of  old  days 
are  kept  alive  in  Izumo  and  elsewhere  by  what  are 
called  in  America  “traveling  side-shows;”  and  the 
inexperienced  foreigner  could  never  imagine  the  pos- 
sibilities of  a Japanese  side-show.  On  certain  great 
holidays  the  showmen  make  their  appearance,  put  up 
their  ephemeral  theati'es  of  rush-matting  and  bamboos 
in  some  temple  court,  surfeit  expectation  by  the  most 
incredible  surprises,  and  then  vanish  as  suddenly  as 
they  came.  The  Skeleton  of  a Devil,  the  Claws  of 
a Goblin,  and  “a  Rat  as  large  as  a sheep,”  were 
some  of  the  least  extraordinary  displays  which  I saw. 
The  Goblin’s  Claws  were  remarkably  fine  shark’s 
teeth  ; the  Devil’s  Skeleton  had  belonged  to  an  orang- 
outang, — all  except  the  horns  ingeniously  attached 
to  the  skull ; and  the  wondrous  Rat  I discovered  to 
be  a tame  kangaroo.  What  I could  not  fully  under- 
stand was  the  exhibition  of  a nuke-kubi,  in  which  a 
young  woman  stretched  her  neck,  apparently,  to  a 
length  of  about  two  feet,  making  ghastly  faces  during 
the  performance. 

VI. 

There  are  also  some  strange  old  superstitions  about 
women’s  hair. 

The  myth  of  Medusa  has  many  a counterpart  in 


426  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


Japanese  folk-lore : the  subject  of  such  tales  being 
always  some  wondrously  beautiful  girl,  whose  hair 
turns  to  snakes  only  at  night,  and  who  is  discovered 
at  last  to  be  either  a dragon  or  a dragon’s  daughter. 
But  in  ancient  times  it  was  believed  that  the  hair  of 
any  young  woman  might,  under  certain  trying  cir- 
cumstances, change  into  serpents.  For  instance: 
under  the  influence  of  long-repressed  jealousy. 

There  were  many  men  of  wealth  who,  in  the  days 
of  Old  Japan,  kept  their  concubines  (mekdke  or 
aisho^  under  the  same  roof  with  their  legitimate 
wives  (^okusaina') . And  it  is  told  that,  although  the 
severest  patriarchal  discipline  might  compel  the  me- 
kake  and  the  okusama  to  live  together  in  perfect 
seeming  harmony  by  day,  their  secret  hate  would 
reveal  itself  by  night  in  the  transfoi’mation  of  their 
hair.  The  long  black  ti’esses  of  each  would  uncoil 
and  hiss  and  sti’ive  to  devour  those  of  the  other ; 
— and  even  the  mirrors  of  the  sleepers  would  dash 
themselves  together ; — for,  saith  an  ancient  proverb, 
Tcagami  onna-no  tamasJiii,  — “a  Mirror  is  the  Soul 
of  a Woman.”  ^ And  there  is  a famous  tradition  of 
one  Kato  Sayemon  Shigenji,who  beheld  in  the  night 
the  hair  of  his  wife  and  the  hair  of  his  concubine, 
changed  into  vipers,  writhing  together  and  hissing 
and  biting.  Then  Kato  Sayemon  grieved  much  for 
that  secret  bitterness  of  hatred  which  thus  existed 
through  his  fault ; and  he  shaved  his  head  and  be- 
came a priest  in  the  great  Buddhist  monasteiy  of 

1 The  old  Japanese  mirrors  were  made  of  metal,  and  were  ex- 
tremely beautiful.  Kagami  ga  kumoru  to  tamashii  ga  kumoru 
{“  When  the  Mirror  is  dim,  the  Soul  is  unclean  ”)  is  another  curious 
proverb  relating  to  mirrors.  Perhaps  the  most  beautiful  and  touch- 
ing story  of  a mirror  in  any  language  is  that  called  Matsuyama-no- 
kagami,  which  has  been  translated  by  Mrs.  James. 


OF  WOMEN'S  HAIR.  427 

Koya-San,  where  he  dwelt  until  the  day  of  his  death 
under  the  name  of  Karukaya. 

VII. 

The  hair  of  dead  women  is  arranged  in  the  manner 
called  tabanegami,  somewhat  resembling  the  shi- 
mada  extremely  simplified,  and  without  ornaments  of 
any  kind.  The  name  tabanegami  signifies  hair  tied 
into  a bunch,  like  a sheaf  of  rice.  This  style  must 
also  be  worn  by  women  during  the  period  of  mourn- 
ing. 

Ghosts,  nevertheless,  are  represented  with  hair 
loose  and  long,  falling  weirdly  over  the  face.  And 
no  doubt  because  of  the  melancholy  suggestiveness 
of  its  drooping  branches,  the  willow  is  believed  to  be 
the  favorite  tree  of  ghosts.  Thereunder,  ’t  is  said, 
they  mourn  in  the  night,  mingling  their  shadowy 
hair  with  the  long  disheveled  tresses  of  the  tree. 

Tradition  says  that  Okyo  Maruyama  was  the  first 
Japanese  artist  who  drew  a ghost.  The  Shogun, 
having  invited  him  to  his  palace,  said : “ Make  a 
picture  of  a ghost  for  me.”  Okyo  promised  to  do  so  ; 
but  he  was  puzzled  how  to  execute  the  order  satisfac- 
torily. A few  days  later,  hearing  that  one  of  his 
aunts  was  very  ill,  he  visited  her.  She  was  so  ema- 
ciated that  she  looked  like  one  already  long  dead. 
As  he  watched  by  her  bedside,  a ghastly  inspiration 
came  to  him : he  drew  the  fleshless  face  and  long 
disheveled  hair,  and  created  from  that  hasty  sketch 
a ghost  that  surpassed  all  the  Shogun’s  expectations. 
Afterwards  Okyo  became  very  famous  as  a painter 
of  ghosts, 

Japanese  ghosts  are  always  represented  as  diapha- 
nous, and  preternaturally  tall,  — only  the  upper  part 


428  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


of  the  figure  being  distinctly  outlined,  and  the  lower 
part  fading  utterly  away.  As  the  Japanese  say,  “ a 
ghost  has  no  feet : ” its  appearance  is  like  an  exha- 
lation, which  becomes  visible  only  at  a certain  dis- 
tance above  the  ground  ; and  it  wavers  and  lengthens 
and  undulates  in  the  conceptions  of  artists,  like  a 
vapor  moved  by  wind.  Occasionally  phantom  women 
figui'e  in  picture  - books  in  the  likeness  of  living 
women ; but  these  are  not  true  ghosts.  They  are 
fox-women  or  other  goblins ; and  their  supernatural 
character  is  suggested  by  a peculiar  expression  of  the 
eyes  and  a certain  impossible  elfish  grace. 

Little  children  in  Japan,  like  little  children  in  all 
countries,  keenly  enjoy  the  pleasure  of  fear  ; and  they 
have  many  games  in  which  such  pleasure  forms  the 
chief  attraction.  Among  these  is  0-bake-goto,  or 
Ghost-play.  Some  niu’se-girl  or  elder  sister  loosens 
her  hair  in  front,  so  as  to  let  it  fall  over  her  face,  and 
pursues  the  little  folk  wdth  moans  and  weird  gestures, 
miming  all  the  attitudes  of  the  ghosts  of  the  picture- 
books. 

vni. 

As  the  hair  of  the  Japanese  woman  is  her  richest 
ornament,  it  is  of  all  her  possessions  that  which  she 
would  most  suffer  to  lose;  and  in  other  days  the  man 
too  manly  to  kill  an  erring  wife  deemed  it  vengeance 
enough  to  turn  her  away  with  all  her  hair  shorn  off. 
Only  the  greatest  faith  or  the  deepest  love  can  prompt 
a woman  to  the  voluntary  sacrifice  of  her  entire  cheve- 
lure.,  though  partial  sacrifices,  offerings  of  one  or  two 
long  thick  cuttings,  may  be  seen  suspended  before 
many  an  Izumo  shrine. 

What  faith  can  do  in  the  way  of  such  sacrifice,  he 
best  knows  who  has  seen  the  great  cables,  woven  of 


OF  WOMEN’S  HAIR. 


429 


women’s  hair,  that  hang  in  the  vast  Hongwanji 
temple  at  Kyoto.  And  love  is  stronger  than  faith, 
though  much  less  demonstrative.  According  to  an- 
cient custom  a wife  bereaved  sacrifices  a portion  of 
her  hair  to  be  placed  in  the  coffin  of  her  husband, 
and  buried  with  him.  The  quantity  is  not  fixed : in 
the  majority  of  cases  it  is  very  small,  so  that  the 
appearance  of  the  coiffure  is  thereby  nowise  affected. 
But  she  who  resolves  to  remain  forever  loyal  to  the 
memory  of  the  lost  yields  up  all.  With  her  own 
hand  she  cuts  off  her  hair,  and  lays  the  whole  glossy 
sacrifice  — emblem  of  her  youth  and  beauty  — upon 
the  knees  of  the  dead. 

It  is  never  suffered  to  grow  again. 


XIX 


FROM  THE  DIARY  OF  AN  ENGLISH  TEACHER. 

I. 


Matsue,  September  2, 1890. 

I AM  under  contract  to  serve  as  English  teacher  in 
the  Jinjo  Chugakko,  or  Ordinary  Middle  School,  and 
also  in  the  Shihan-Gakko,  or  Normal  School,  of  Ma- 
tsue, Izumo,  for  the  term  of  one  year. 

The  Jinjo  Chugakko  is  an  immense  two-story 
wooden  building  in  European  style,  painted  a dark 
gray-blue.  It  has  accommodations  for  nearly  three 
hundred  day  scholars.  It  is  situated  in  one  corner  of 
a great  square  of  ground,  bounded  on  two  sides  by 
canals,  and  on  the  other  two  by  very  quiet  streets. 
This  site  is  very  near  the  ancient  castle. 

The  Normal  School  is  a much  larger  building  oc- 
cupying the  opposite  angle  of  the  square.  It  is  also 
much  handsomer,  is  painted  snowy  white,  and  has  a 
little  cupola  upon  its  summit.  There  are  only  about 
one  hundred  and  fifty  students  in  the  Shihan-Gakko, 
but  they  are  boarders. 

Between  these  two  schools  are  other  educational 
buildings,  which  I will  learn  more  about  later. 

It  is  my  first  day  at  the  schools.  Nishida  Sentaro, 
the  Japanese  teacher  of  English,  has  taken  me  through 
the  buildings,  introduced  me  to  the  Directors,  and 
to  all  my  future  colleagues,  given  me  all  necessary 
instructions  about  hours  and  about  text-books,  and 


FROM  THE  DIARY  OF  A TEACHER.  431 


furnished  my  desk  with  all  things  necessaiy.  Before 
teaching  begins,  however,  I must  be  introduced  to  the 
Governor  of  the  Province,  Koteda  Yasusada,  with 
whom  my  contract  has  been  made,  through  the  me- 
dium of  his  secretary.  So  Nishida  leads  the  way  to 
the  Kencho,  or  Prefectural  office,  situated  in  another 
foreign-lookinw  edifice  across  the  street. 

We  enter  it,  ascend  a wide  stairway,  and  enter  a 
spacious  room  carpeted  in  European  fashion,  — a room 
with  bay  windows  and  cushioned  chairs.  One  person 
is  seated  at  a small  round  table,  and  about  him  are 
standing  half  a dozen  others  : all  are  in  full  Japanese 
costume,  ceremonial  costume, — splendid  silken  ha- 
kama,  or  Chinese  trousers,  silken  robes,  silken  haori 
or  overdress,  marked  with  their  mon  or  family  crests  : 
rich  and  dignified  attire  which  makes  me  ashamed 
of  my  commonplace  Western  garb.  These  are  officials 
of  the  Kencho,  and  teachers  : the  person  seated  is  the 
Governor.  He  rises  to  greet  me,  gives  me  the  hand- 
grasp  of  a giant : and  as  I look  into  his  eyes,  I feel  I 
shall  love  that  man  to  the  day  of  my  death.  A face 
fresh  and  frank  as  a boy’s,  expressing  much  placid 
force  and  large-hearted  kindness,  — all  the  calm  of  a 
Buddha.  Beside  him,  the  other  officials  look  very 
small : indeed  the  first  impression  of  him  is  that  of 
a man  of  another  race.  While  I am  wondering 
whether  the  old  Japanese  heroes  were  cast  in  a simi- 
lar mould,  he  signs  to  me  to  take  a seat,  and  ques- 
tions my  guide  in  a mellow  basso.  There  is  a charm 
in  the  fluent  depth  of  the  voice  pleasantly  confirming 
the  idea  suggested  by  the  face.  An  attendant  brings 
tea. 

“ The  Governor  asks,”  interprets  Nishida,  “ if  you 
^ know  the  old  history  of  Izumo.” 


432  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


I reply  that  I have  read  the  Kojiki,  translated  by 
Professor  Chamberlain,  and  have  therefore  some 
knowledge  of  the  story  of  Japan’s  most  ancient  prov- 
ince. Some  converse  in  Japanese  follows.  Nishida 
tells  the  Governor  that  I came  to  Japan  to  study  the 
ancient  religion  and  customs,  and  that  I am  particu- 
larly interested  in  Shinto  and  the  traditions  of  Izumo. 
The  Governor  suggests  that  I make  visits  to  the  cel- 
ebrated shrines  of  Kitzuki,  Yaegaki,  and  Kumano, 
and  then  asks : — 

“ Does  he  know  the  tradition  of  the  origin  of  the 
clapping  of  hands  before  a Shinto  shrine  ? ” 

I reply  in  the  negative  ; and  the  Governor  says 
the  tradition  is  given  in  a commentary  upon  the 
Kojiki. 

“ It  is  in  the  thirty-second  section  of  the  four- 
teenth volume,  where  it  is  written  that  Ya-he-Koto- 
Shiro-nushi-no-Kami  clapped  his  hands.” 

I thank  the  Governor  for  his  kind  suggestions  and 
his  citation.  After  a brief  silence  I am  graciously 
dismissed  with  another  genuine  hand  grasp  ; and  we 
return  to  the  school. 

n. 

I have  been  teaching  for  three  hours  in  the  Middle 
School,  and  teaching  Japanese  boys  turns  out  to  be  a 
much  more  agreeable  task  than  I had  imagined.  Each 
class  has  been  so  well  prepared  for  me  beforehand  by 
Nishida  that  my  utter  ignorance  of  Japanese  makes 
no  difficulty  in  regard  to  teaching : moreover,  although 
the  lads  cannot  understand  my  words  always  when  I 
speak,  they  can  understand  whatever  I write  upon 
the  blackboard  with  chalk.  Most  of  them  have 
already  been  studying  English  from  childhood,  with 
Japanese  teachers.  All  are  wonderfully  docile  and 


FROM  THE  DIARY  OF  A TEACHER.  433 


patient.  According  to  old  custom,  wlien  the  teacher 
enters,  the  whole  class  rises  and  bows  to  him.  He 
returns  the  bow,  and  calls  the  roll. 

Nishida  is  only  too  kind.  He  helps  me  in  every 
way  he  possibly  can,  and  is  constantly  regretting 
that  he  cannot  help  me  more.  There  are,  of  course, 
some  difficulties  to  overcome.  For  instance,  it  will 
take  me  a very,  very  long  time  to  learn  the  names  of 
the  boys,  — most  of  which  names  I cannot  even  pro- 
nounce, with  the  class-roll  before  me.  And  although 
the  names  of  the  different  classes  have  been  painted 
upon  the  doors  of  their  respective  rooms  in  English 
letters,  for  the  benefit  of  the  foreign  teacher,  it  will 
take  me  some  weeks  at  least  to  become  quite  familiar 
with  them.  For  the  time  being  Nishida  always 
guides  me  to  the  rooms.  He  also  shows  me  the  way, 
through  long  corridors,  to  the  Normal  School,  and 
introduces  me  to  the  teacher  Nakayama  who  is  to 
act  there  as  my  guide. 

I have  been  engaged  to  teach  only  four  times  a 
week  at  the  Normal  School ; but  I am  furnished 
there  also  with  a handsome  desk  in  the  teachers’ 
apartment,  and  am  made  to  feel  at  home  almost  im- 
mediately. Nakayama  shows  me  everything  of  in- 
terest in  the  building  before  introducing  me  to  my 
future  pupils.  The  introduction  is  pleasant  and 
novel  as  a school  experience.  I am  conducted  along 
a corridor,  and  ushered  into  a large  luminous  white- 
washed room  full  of  young  men  in  dark  blue  military 
uniform.  Each  sits  at  a very  small  desk,  supported 
by  a single  leg,  with  three  feet.  At  the  end  of  the 
room  is  a platform  with  a high  desk  and  a chair  for 
the  teacher.  As  I take  my  place  at  the  desk,  a voice 
rings  out  in  English : “ Stand  up  ! ” And  all  rise 


431  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


witli  a springy  movement  as  if  moved  by  machinery, 
'■‘‘Bow  doivn!"  the  same  voice  again  commands, — 
the  voice  of  a young  student  wearing  a captain’s 
stripes  upon  his  sleeve  ; and  all  salute  me.  I bow  in 
return;  we  take  our  seats;  and  the  lesson  begins. 

All  teachers  at  the  Normal  School  are  saluted  in 
the  same  military  fashion  before  each  class-hour,  — 
only  the  command  is  given  in  Japanese.  For  my 
sake  only,  it  is  given  in  English. 

ni. 

September  22,  1890. 

The  Normal  School  is  a State  institution.  Stu- 
dents are  admitted  upon  examination  and  production 
of  testimony  as  to  good  character;  but  the  number 
is,  of  course,  limited.  The  young  men  pay  no  fees, 
no  boarding  money,  nothing  even  for  books,  college- 
outfits,  or  wearing  apj)arel.  They  are  lodged,  clothed, 
fed,  and  educated  by  the  State  ; but  they  are  required 
in  return,  after  their  graduation,  to  serve  the  State 
as  teachers  for  the  space  of  five  years.  Admission, 
however,  by  no  means  assures  graduation.  There 
are  three  or  four  examinations  each  year;  and  the 
students  who  fail  to  obtain  a certain  high  average  of 
examination  marks  must  leave  the  school,  however 
exemplary  their  conduct  or  earnest  their  study.  No 
leniency  can  be  shown  where  the  educational  needs 
of  the  State  are  concerned,  and  these  call  for  natural 
ability  and  a high  standard  of  its  proof. 

The  discipline  is  military  and  severe.  Indeed,  it  is 
so  thorough  that  the  graduate  of  a Normal  School  is 
exempted  by  military  law  from  more  than  a year’s 
service  in  the  army : he  leaves  college  a trained  sol- 
dier. Deportment  is  also  a requisite : special  marks 


FROM  THE  DIARY  OF  A TEACHER.  435 


are  given  for  it ; anti  however  gawky  a freshman  may 
prove  at  the  time  of  his  admission,  he  cannot  remain 
so.  A spirit  of  manliness  is  cultivated,  which  ex- 
cludes roughness  but  develops  self-reliance  and  self- 
control.  The  student  is  required,  when  speaking,  to 
look  his  teacher  in  the  face,  and  to  utter  his  words 
jiot  only  distinctly,  but  sonorously.  Demeanor  in 
class  is  partly  enforced  by  the  class-room  fittings 
themselves.  'I'he  tiny  tables  are  too  naiTow  to  allow 
of  being  used  as  supports  for  the  elbows  ; the  seats 
have  no  backs  against  which  to  lean,  and  the  student 
must  hold  himself  rigidly  erect  as  he  studies.  He 
must  also  keep  himself  faultlessly  neat  and  clean. 
Whenever  and  wherever  he  encounters  one  of  his 
teachers  he  must  halt,  bring  his  feet  together,  draw 
himself  erect,  and  give  the  military  salute.  And 
this  is  done  with  a swift  grace  difficult  to  describe. 

The  demeanor  of  a class  during  study  hours  is  if 
anything  too  faultless.  Never  a whisper  is  heard ; 
never  is  a head  raised  from  the  book  without  permis- 
sion. But  when  the  teacher  addresses  a student  by 
name,  the  youth  rises  instantly,  and  replies  in  a tone 
of  such  vigor  as  would  seem  to  unaccustomed  ears 
almost  startling  by  contrast  with  the  stillness  and 
self-repression  of  the  others. 

The  female  department  of  the  Normal  School, 
where  about  fifty  young  women  are  being  trained  as 
teachers,  is  a separate  two-story  quadrangle  of  build- 
ings, large,  airy,  and  so  situated,  together  with  its 
gardens,  as  to  be  totally  isolated  from  all  other  build- 
ings and  invisible  from  the  street.  The  girls  are  not 
only  taught  European  science  by  the  most  advanced 
methods,  but  are  trained  as  well  in  Japanese  arts, — 
the  arts  of  embroidery,  of  decoration,  of  painting, 


436  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


and  of  arranging  flowers.  European  drawing  is  also 
taught,  and  beautifully  taught,  not  only  here,  but  in 
all  the  schools.  It  is  taught,  however,  in  combina- 
tion with  Japanese  methods;  and  the  results  of  this 
blending  may  certainly  be  expected  to  have  some 
charming  influence  upon  future  art-production.  The 
average  capacity  of  the  Japanese  student  in  drawing 
is,  I think,  at  least  fifty  per  cent,  higher  than  that  of 
European  students.  The  soul  of  the  race  is  essen- 
tially artistic  ; and  the  extremely  difiicult  art  of  learn- 
ing to  write  the  Chinese  charactei’S,  in  which  all  are 
trained  from  early  childhood,  has  already  disciplined 
the  hand  and  the  eye  to  a marvelous  degree,  — a 
degree  undreamed  of  in  the  Occident,  — long  before 
the  drawing-master  begins  his  lessons  of  perspective. 

Attached  to  the  great  Normal  School,  and  con- 
nected by  a corridor  with  the  Jinjo  Chugakko  like- 
wise, is  a large  elementary  school  for  little  boys  and 
girls:  its  teachers  are  male  and  female  students  of 
the  graduating  classes,  who  are  thus  practically 
trained  for  their  profession  before  entering  the  ser- 
vice of  the  State.  Nothing  could  he  more  interesting 
as  an  educational  spectacle  to  any  sympathetic  for- 
eigner than  some  of  this  elementary  teaching.  In 
the  first  room  which  I visit  a class  of  very  little  girls 
and  boys  — some  as  quaintly  pretty  as  their  own 
dolls  — are  bending  at  their  desks  over  sheets  of 
coal-black  paper  which  you  would  think  they  were 
trying  to  make  still  blacker  by  energetic  use  of 
writing-brushes  and  what  we  call  Indian-ink.  They 
are  really  learning  to  write  Chinese  and  Japanese 
chai’acters,  stroke  by  stroke.  Until  one  stroke  has 
been  well  learned,  they  are  not  suffered  to  attempt 


FROM  THE  DIARY  OF  A TEACHER.  437 


another  — much  less  a combination.  Long  before 
the  first  lesson  is  thoroughly  mastered,  the  white 
paper  has  become  all  evenly  black  under  the  multi- 
tude of  tyro  brush-strokes.  But  the  same  sheet  is 
still  used ; for  the  wet  ink  makes  a yet  blacker  mark 
upon  the  dry,  so  that  it  can  easily  be  seen. 

In  a room  adjoining,  I see  another  child-class 
learning  to  use  scissors  — Japanese  scissors,  which, 
being  formed  in  one  piece,  shaped  something  like  the 
letter  U,  are  much  less  easy  to  manage  than  ours. 
J'he  little  folk  are  being  taught  to  cut  out  patterns, 
and  shapes  of  special  objects  or  symbols  to  be 
studied.  Flower-forms  are  the  most  ordinary  pat- 
terns ; sometimes  certain  ideographs  are  given  as 
subjects. 

And  in  another  room  a third  small  class  is  learn- 
ing to  sing;  the  teacher  writing  the  music  notes 
(c?o,  re,  mi)  with  chalk  upon  a blackboard,  and  ac- 
companying the  song  with  an  accordion.  The  little 
ones  have  learned  the  Japanese  national  anthem 
(^Kimi  ga  yo  wa)  and  two  native  songs  set  to  Scotch 
airs,  — one  of  which  calls  back  to  me,  even  in  this 
remote  corner  of  the  Orient,  many  a charming  mem- 
ory : Auld  Lang  Syne. 

No  uniform  is  worn  in  this  elementary  school : all 
are  in  Japanese  dress,  — the  boys  in  dark  blue  ki- 
mono, the  little  girls  in  robes  of  all  tints,  radiant  as 
butterflies.  But  in  addition  to  their  robes,  the  girls 
wear  hakania,^  and  these  are  of  a vivid,  warm  sky- 
blue. 

Between  the  hours  of  teaching,  ten  minutes  are 
allowed  for  play  or  rest.  The  little  boys  play  at 

^ There  is  a legend  that  the  Sun-Goddess  invented  the  first  hakama, 
by  tying  together  the  skirts  of  her  robe. 


438  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


Demon-Shadows  or  at  blindman’s-buff  or  at  some 
other  funny  game : they  laugh,  leap,  shout,  race,  and 
wrestle,  but,  unlike  European  children,  never  quarrel 
or  fightd  As  for  the  little  girls,  the}'  get  by  them- 
selves, and  either  play  at  hand-ball,  or  form  into  cir- 
cles to  play  at  some  round  game,  accompanied  by 
song.  Indescribably  soft  and  sweet  the  chorus  of 
those  little  voices  in  the  round. 

Kango-kango  shd-ya, 

Naka  yoni  shd-ya, 

Don.-don  to  kunde 
Jizo-San  no  midzu  wo 
Matsuba  no  midzu  irete, 

Makkuri  kaeso.'^ 

T notice  that  the  young  men,  as  well  as  the  young 
women,  who  teach  these  little  folk,  are  extremely 
tender  to  their  charges.  A child  whose  kimono  is 
out  of  order,  or  dirtied  by  play,  is  taken  aside  and 
brushed  and  arranged  as  carefully  as  by  an  elder 
brother. 

Besides  being  trained  for  their  future  profession 
by  teaching  the  children  of  the  elementary  school, 
the  girl  students  of  the  Shihan-Gakko  are  also  trained 
to  teach  in  the  neighboring  kindergarten.  A delight- 
ful kindergarten  it  is,  with  big  cheerful  sunny  rooms, 

1 Since  the  above  was  written  I have  had  two  years’  experience  as 
a teacher  in  various  large  Japanese  schools;  and  I have  never  had 
personal  knowledge  of  any  serious  quarrel  between  students,  and 
have  never  even  heard  of  a fight  among  my  pupils.  And  I have 
taught  some  eight  hundred  boys  and  young  men. 

2 “ Let  us  play  the  game  called  kango-kango.  Plenteously  the 
water  of  Jizo-San  quickly  draw,  — and  pour  on  the  pine-leaves,  — and 
turn  back  again.”  Many  of  the  games  of  Japanese  children,  like 
many  of  their  toys,  have  a Buddhist  origin,  or  at  least  a Buddhist 
signifieance. 


FROM  THE  DIARY  OF  A TEACHER.  439 


where  stocks  of  the  most  ingenious  educational  toys 
are  piled  upon  shelves  for  daily  use. 


IV. 

October  1,  1890. 

Nevertheless  I am  destined  to  see  little  of  the  Nor- 
mal School.  Strictly  speaking,  I do  not  belong  to 
its  staff : my  services  being  only  lent  by  the  Middle 
School,  to  which  I give  most  of  my  time.  I see  the 
Normal  School  students  in  their  class-rooms  only, 
for  they  are  not  allowed  to  go  out  to  visit  their 
teachers’  homes  in  the  town.  So  I can  never  hope 
to  become  as  familiar  with  them  as  with  the  stu- 
dents of  the  Chugakko,  who  are  beginning  to  call 
me  “ Teacher  ” instead  of  “ Sir,”  and  to  treat  me  as  a 
sort  of  elder  brother.  (I  objected  to  the  word  “mas- 
ter,” for  in  Japan  the  teacher  has  no  need  of  being 
masterful.)  And  I feel  less  at  home  in  the  large, 
bright,  comfortable  apartments  of  the  Normal  School 
teachers  than  in  our  dingy,  chilly  teachers’  room  at 
the  Chugakko,  where  my  desk  is  next  to  that  of  Ni- 
shida. 

On  the  walls  there  are  maps,  crowded  with  Japa- 
nese ideographs ; a few  large  charts  representing  zo- 
ological facts  in  the  light  of  evolutional  science;  and 
an  immense  frame  filled  with  little  black  lacquered 
wooden  tablets,  so  neatly  fitted  together  that  the 
entire  surface  is  uniform  as  that  of  a blackboard. 
On  these  are  w^ritten,  or  rather  painted,  in  white, 
names  of  teachers,  subjects,  classes,  and  order  of 
teaching  hours ; and  by  the  ingenious  tablet  arrange- 
ment any  change  of  hours  can  be  represented  by 
simply  changing  the  places  of  the  tablets.  As  all 
tliis  is  written  in  Chinese  and  Japanese  characters,  it 

VOL.  II. 


440  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


remains  to  me  a mystery,  except  in  so  far  as  the 
general  plan  and  purpose  are  concerned.  I have 
learned  only  to  recognize  the  letters  of  my  own  name, 
and  the  simpler  form  of  numerals. 

On  every  teacher’s  desk  there  is  a small  hibachi  of 
glazed  blue-and-wliite  ware,  containing  a few  lumps 
of  glowing  charcoal  in  a bed  of  ashes.  During  the 
brief  intervals  between  classes  each  teacher  smokes 
his  tiny  Japanese  pipe  of  brass,  iron,  or  silver.  The 
hibachi  and  a cup  of  hot  tea  are  our  consolations  for 
the  fatigues  of  the  class-room. 

o 

Nishida  and  one  or  two  other  teachers  know  a 
good  deal  of  English,  and  we  chat  together  some- 
times between  classes.  But  more  often  no  one 
speaks.  All  are  tired  after  the  teaching  hour,  and 
pi’efer  to  smoke  in  silence.  At  such  times  the  only 
sounds  within  the  room  are  the  ticking  of  the  clock, 
and  the  sharp  clang  of  the  little  pipes  being  rapped 
upon  the  edges  of  the  hibachi  to  empty  out  the  ashes. 


October  1.5,  1890. 

To-day  I witnessed  the  annual  athletic  contests 
(undo-liwai)  of  all  the  schools  in  Shimane  Ken. 
These  games  were  celebrated  in  the  broad  castle 
grounds  of  Ninomaru.  Yesterday  a circular  race- 
track had  been  staked  off,  hurdles  erected  for  leaping, 
thousands  of  wooden  seats  prepared  for  invited  or 
privileged  spectators,  and  a grand  lodge  built  for  the 
Governor,  all  before  sunset.  The  place  looked  like 
a vast  circus,  with  its  tiers  of  plank  seats  rising 
one  above  the  other,  and  the  Governor’s  lodge  mag- 
nificent with  wreaths  and  flags.  School  children 
from  all  the  villages  and  towns  within  twenty-five 


FROM  THE  DIARY  OF  A TEACHER.  441 


miles  had  arrived  in  surprising  multitude.  Nearly 
six  thousand  boys  and  girls  were  entered  to  take  part 
in  the  contests.  Their  parents  and  relatives  and 
teachers  made  an  imposing  assembly  upon  the  benches 
and  within  the  gates.  And  on  the  ramparts  over- 
looking the  huge  inclosure  a much  larger  crowd  had 
gathered,  representing  perhaps  one  third  of  the  popu- 
lation of  the  city. 

The  signal  to  begin  or  to  end  a contest  was  a pistol- 
shot.  Four  different  kinds  of  games  were  performed 
in  different  parts  of  the  grounds  at  the  same  time, 
as  there  was  room  enough  for  an  army ; and  prizes 
were  awarded  to  the  winners  of  each  contest  by  the 
hand  of  the  Governor  himself. 

There  were  races  between  the  best  runners  in  each 
class  of  the  different  schools  ; and  the  best  runner  of 
all  proved  to  be  Sakane,  of  our  own  fifth  class,  who 
came  in  first  by  nearly  forty  yards  without  seeming 
even  to  make  an  effort.  He  is  our  champion  athlete, 
and  as  good  as  he  is  strong,  — so  that  it  made  me 
very  happy  to  see  him  with  his  arms  full  of  prize 
books.  He  won  also  a fencing  contest  decided  by  the 
breaking  of  a little  earthenware  saucer  tied  to  the 
left  arm  of  each  combatant.  And  he  also  won  a leap- 
ing match  between  our  older  boys. 

But  many  hundreds  of  other  winners  there  were 
too,  and  many  liundreds  of  prizes  were  given  away. 
Tliere  were  races  in  which  the  runners  were  tied  to- 
gether in  pairs,  the  left  leg  of  one  to  the  right  leg 
of  the  other.  There  were  equally  funny  races,  the 
winning  of  which  depended  on  the  I’unner’s  ability 
not  only  to  run,  but  to  crawl,  to  climb,  to  vault,  and 
to  jump  alternately.  There  were  races  also  for  the 
little  girls,  — - pretty  as  butterflies  they  seemed  in 


442  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


tlieir  sky-blue  bakama  and  many  colored  robes, — 
races  in  which  the  contestants  had  each  to  pick  up  as 
they  ran  three  balls  of  three  different  colors  out  of  a 
miinber  scattered  over  the  turf.  Besides  this,  the 
little  girls  had  what  is  called  a flag-i-ace,  and  a contest 
with  battledores  and  shuttlecocks. 

Then  came  the  tug-of-war.  A magnificent  tug-of- 
war,  too,  — one  hundred  students  at  one  end  of  a rope, 
and  another  hundred  at  the  other.  But  the  most 
wonderful  spectacles  of  the  da}’  were  the  dumb-bell 
exercises.  Six  thousand  boys  and  girls,  massed  in 
ranks  about  five  hundred  deep  ; six  thousand  pairs 
of  arms  rising  and  falling  exactly  together  ; six 
thousand  pairs  of  sandaled  feet  advancing  or  retreat- 
ing together,  at  the  signal  of  the  masters  of  gym- 
nastics, directing  all  from  the  tops  of  various  little 
wooden  towers  ; six  thousand  voices  chanting  at  once 
tlie  “ one,  two,  three,”  of  the  dumb-bell  drill : “ /t’/if, 
ni,  — s«H,  s/if,  — go.,  roku,  — shichi,  hachi.” 

Last  came  the  curious  game  called  “ Taking  the 
Castle.”  Two  models  of  Japanese  towers,  about 
fifteen  feet  high,  made  with  paper  stretched  over  a 
framework  of  bamboo,  were  set  up,  one  at  each  end 
of  the  field.  Inside  the  castles  an  inflammable  liquid 
had  been  placed  in  open  vessels,  so  that  if  the  vessels 
were  overturned  the  whole  fabric  would  take  fire. 
The  boys,  divided  into  two  parties,  bombarded  the 
castles  with  wooden  balls,  which  passed  easily  through 
the  paper  walls  ; and  in  a short  time  both  models 
were  making  a glorious  blaze.  Of  course  the  party 
whose  castle  was  the  first  to  blaze  lost  the  game. 

d'he  games  began  at  eight  o’clock  in  the  morning, 
and  at  five  in  the  evening  came  to  an  end.  Then 
at  a signal  fully  ten  thousand  voices  pealed  out  the 


FROM  THE  DIARY  OF  A TEACHER.  443 


superb  national  anthem,  '''•  Kimi ga  yo''  and  concluded 
it  with  three  cheers  for  their  Imperial  ^Majesties,  the 
Emperor  and  Empress  of  Japan. 

The  Japanese  do  not  shout  or  roar  as  we  do  when  we 
cheer.  They  chant.  Each  long  cry  is  like  the  opening 
tone  of  an  immense  musical  chorus:  A-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a  ! 


VI. 

It  is  no  small  surprise  to  observe  how  botany, 
geology,  and  other  sciences  are  daily  taught  even  in 
this  remotest  part  of  old  Japan.  Plant  physiology 
and  the  nature  of  vegetable  tissues  are  studied  under 
excellent  microscopes,  and  in  their  relations  to  chem- 
istry ; and  at  regular  intervals  the  instructor  leads 
his  classes  into  the  country  to  illustrate  the  lessons 
of  the  term  by  examples  taken  from  the  flora  of  their 
native  place.  Agriculture,  taught  by  a graduate  of 
the  famous  Agricultural  School  at  Sapporo,  is  practi- 
cally illustrated  upon  farms  purchased  and  maintained 
by  the  schools  for  purely  educational  ends.  Each 
series  of  lessons  in  geology  is  supplemented  b}*  visits 
to  the  mountains  about  the  lake,  or  to  the  tremendous 
cliffs  of  the  coast,  where  the  students  are  taught  to 
familiarize  themselves  with  forms  of  stratification 
and  the  visible  history  of  rocks.  The  basin  of  the 
lake,  and  the  country  about  INIatsue,  is  physiographi- 
cally  studied,  after  the  plans  of  instruction  laid  down 
in  Huxley’s  excellent  manual.  Natural  History,  too, 
is  taught  according  to  the  latest  and  best  methods, 
and  with  the  help  of  the  microscope.  The  results  of 
such  teaching  are  sometimes  surprising.  I know  of 
one  student,  a lad  of  only  sixteen,  who  voluntarily 
collected  and  classified  more  than  two  hundred  varie- 
ties of  marine  plants  for  a Tokyo  professor.  Another, 


444  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


a youth  of  seventeen,  wrote  down  for  me  in  my  note- 
book, without  a work  of  reference  at  hand,  and,  as 
I afterward  discovered,  almost  without  an  omission 
or  error,  a scientific  list  of  all  the  butterflies  to  be 
found  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  city. 

vn. 

Through  the  Minister  of  Public  Instruction,  His 
Imperial  Majesty  has  sent  to  all  the  great  public 
schools  of  the  Empire  a letter  bearing  date  of  the 
thirteenth  day  of  the  tenth  month  of  the  twenty-thii’d 
year  of  Meiji.  And  the  students  and  teachers  of  the 
various  schools  assemble  to  hear  the  reading  of  the 
Imperial  Words  on  Education. 

At  eight  o’clock  we  of  the  Middle  School  are  all 
waiting  in  our  own  assembly  hall  for  the  coming  of 
the  Governor,  who  will  read  the  Emperor’s  letter 
in  the  various  schools. 

We  wait  but  a little  while.  Then  the  Governor 
comes  with  all  the  officers  of  the  Kencho  and  the 
chief  men  of  the  city.  We  rise  to  salute  him  : then 
the  national  anthem  is  sung. 

Then  the  Governor,  ascending  the  platform,  pro- 
duces the  Imperial  Missive,  — a scroll  of  Chinese 
manuscript  sheathed  in  silk.  He  withdraws  it  slowly 
from  its  woven  envelope,  lifts  it  reverentially  to  his 
forehead,  unrolls  it,  lifts  it  again  to  his  forehead, 
and  after  a moment’s  dignified  pause  begins  in  that 
clear  deep  voice  of  his  to  read  the  melodious  syllables 
after  the  ancient  way,  which  is  like  a chant : — 

^^CHO-KU-GU.  Chin  omommiru  ni  waga  Icoso  Icoso 
kuni  wo.  . . . 

“We  consider  that  the  Founder  of  Our  Empire  and  the 


FROM  THE  DIARY  OF  A TEACHER.  445 


ancestors  of  Our  Imperial  House  placed  the  foundation  of 
the  country  on  a grand  and  permanent  basis,  and  established 
their  authority  on  the  principles  of  profound  humanity  and 
benevolence. 

“ That  Our  subjects  have  throughout  ages  deserved  well  of 
the  state  by  their  loyalty  and  ]>iety  and  by  their  harmonious 
cooperation  is  in  accordance  with  the  essential  character  of 
Our  nation ; and  on  these  very  same  princijiles  Our  educa- 
tion has  been  founded. 

“ You,  Our  subjects,  be  therefore  filial  to  your  parents  ; be 
affectionate  to  your  brothel’s  ; be  harmonious  as  husbands  and 
wives ; and  be  faithful  to  your  friends  ; conduct  yourselves 
with  propriety  and  carefulness ; extend  generosity  and  benev- 
olence towards  your  neiglibors  ; attend  to  your  studies  and 
follow  your  pursuits ; cultivate  your  intellects  and  elevate 
your  morals ; advance  public  benefits  and  promote  social 
interests ; be  always  found  in  the  good  observance  of  the 
laws  and  constitution  of  the  land ; display  your  personal 
courage  and  public  sj)irit  for  the  sake  of  the  country  when- 
ever required ; and  thus  support  the  Imperial  prerogative, 
which  is  coexistent  with  the  Heavens  and  the  Earth. 

“ Such  conduct  on  your  part  will  not  only  strengthen  the 
character  of  Our  good  and  loyal  subjects,  but  conduce  also 
to  the  maintenance  of  the  fame  of  your  worthy  forefathers. 

“This  is  the  instruction  bequeathed  by  Our  ancestors  and 
to  be  followed  by  Our  subjects ; for  it  is  the  truth  which  has 
guided  and  guides  them  in  their  own  affairs  and  in  their 
dealings  towards  aliens. 

“ AVe  hope,  therefore.  We  and  Our  subjects  will  regard 
these  sacred  precepts  with  one  and  the  same  heart  in  order 
to  attain  the  same  ends.”  ^ 

* I take  the  above  translation  from  a Tokyo  educational  journal, 
entitled  The  Museum.  The  original  document,  however,  was  im- 
pressive to  a degree  that  perhaps  no  translation  could  give.  The 
Chinese  words  by  which  the  Emperor  refers  to  himself  and  his  will 
are  far  more  impressive  than  our  Western  “ We”  or  “ Our  ; ” and  the 
words  relating  to  duties,  virtues,  wisdom,  and  other  matters  are  words 


446  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


Then  the  Governor  and  the  Head-master  speak  a 
few  words,  — dwelling  upon  the  full  significance  of 
His  Imperial  Majesty's  august  commands,  and  ex- 
horting all  to  remember  and  to  obey  them  to  the 
uttermost. 

After  which  the  students  have  a holiday,  to  enable 
them  the  better  to  recollect  what  they  have  heard. 

YIII. 

All  teaching  in  the  modern  Japanese  system  of 
education  is  conducted  witli  the  utmost  kindness  and 
gentleness.  The  teacher  is  a teacher  only : he  is 
not,  in  the  English  sense  of  mastery,  a master.  He 
stands  to  his  pupils  in  the  relation  of  an  elder  brother. 
He  never  tries  to  impose  his  will  upon  them : he 
never  scolds,  he  seldom  criticises,  he  scarcely  ever 
punishes.  No  Japanese  teacher  ever  strikes  a pupil: 
such  an  act  would  cost  him  his  post  at  once.  He 
never  loses  his  temper : to  do  so  would  disgrace 
him  in  the  eyes  of  his  boys  and  in  the  judgment 
of  his  colleagues.  Practically  speaking,  there  is  no 
punishment  in  Japanese  schools.  Sometimes  very 
mischievous  lads  are  kept  in  the  schoolhouse  during 
recreation  time  ; yet  even  this  light  penalty  is  not 
inflicted  directl}'^  by  the  teacher,  but  by  the  director  of 
the  school  on  complaint  of  the  teacher.  The  purpose 
in  such  cases  is  not  to  inflict  pain  by  deprivation  of 
enjoyment,  but  to  give  public  illustration  of  a fault ; 
and  in  the  great  majority  of  instances,  consciousness 
of  the  fault  thus  brought  home  to  a lad  before  his 
comrades  is  quite  enough  to  prevent  its  repetition. 

that  evoke  in  a Japanese  mind  ideas  which  only  those  who  know  Jap- 
anese life  perfectly  can  appreciate,  and  which,  though  variant  from 
our  own,  are  neither  less  beautiful  nor  less  sacred. 


FROM  THE  DIARY  OF  A TEACHER.  447 


No  such  cruel  punition  as  that  of  forcing  a dull  pupil 
to  learn  an  additional  task,  or  of  sentencing  him  to 
strain  his  eyes  copying  four  or  five  hundred  lines,  is 
ever  dreamed  of.  Nor  would  such  forms  of  punish- 
ment, in  the  present  state  of  things,  be  long  tolerated 
by  the  pupils  themselves.  The  general  policy  of  the 
educational  authorities  everywhere  throughout  the 
empire  is  to  get  rid  of  students  who  cannot  be  per- 
fectly well  managed  without  punishment ; and  ex- 
pulsions, nevertheless,  are  rare. 

I often  see  a pretty  spectacle  on  my  way  home 
from  the  school,  when  I take  the  short  cut  through 
the  castle  grounds.  A class  of  about  thirty  little 
boys,  in  kimono  and  sandals,  bareheaded,  being 
taught  to  march  and  to  sing  by  a handsome  young 
teacher,  also  in  Japanese  dress.  While  they  sing, 
they  are  drawn  up  in  line ; and  keep  time  with  their 
little  bare  feet.  The  teacher  has  a pleasant  high 
clear  tenor:  he  stands  at  one  end  of  the  rank  and 
sings  a single  line  of  the  song.  Then  all  the  children 
sing  it  after  him.  Then  he  sings  a second  line,  and 
they  repeat  it.  If  any  mistakes  are  made,  they  have 
to  sing  the  verse  again. 

It  is  the  Song  of  Kusunoki  Masashige,  noblest  of 
Japanese  heroes  and  patriots. 


IX. 

I have  said  that  severity  on  the  part  of  teachers 
would  scarcely  be  tolerated  by  the  students  them- 
selves, — a fact  which  may  sound  strange  to  English 
or  American  ears.  Tom  Brown’s  school  does  not 
exist  in  Japan;  the  ordinary  public  school  much 
more  resembles  the  ideal  Italian  institution  so  charm- 


448  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


ingly  painted  for  us  in  the  “ Cuore  ” of  De  Amicis. 
Japanese  students  furthermore  claim  and  enjoy  an 
independence  contrary  to  all  Occidental  ideas  of 
disciplinary  necessity.  In  the  Occident  the  master 
expels  the  pupil.  In  Japan  it  happens  quite  as  often 
that  the  pupil  expels  the  master.  Each  public  school 
is  an  earnest,  spirited  little  republic,  to  which  director 
and  teachers  stand  only  in  the  relation  of  president 
and  cabinet.  They  are  indeed  appointed  by  the  pre- 
fectural  government  upon  recommendation  by  the 
Educational  Bureau  at  the  capital ; but  in  actual 
practice  they  maintain  their  positions  by  virtue  of 
their  capacity  and  personal  character  as  estimated 
by  their  students,  and  ai-e  likely  to  be  deposed  by  a 
revolutionary  movement  whenever  found  wanting. 
It  has  been  alleged  that  the  students  frequently 
abuse  their  power.  But  this  allegation  has  been 
made  by  European  residents,  strongly  prejudiced  in 
favor  of  masterful  English  ways  of  discipline.  (I 
recollect  that  an  English  Yokohama  paper,  in  this 
connection,  advocated  the  introduction  of  the  birch.) 
My  own  observations  have  convinced  me,  as  larger 
experience  has  convinced  some  others,  that  in  most 
instances  of  pupils  rebelling  against  a teacher,  reason 
is  upon  their  side.  They  will  rarely  insult  a teacher 
whom  they  dislike,  or  cause  any  disturbance  in  his 
class : they  will  simply  refuse  to  attend  school  until 
he  be  removed.  Personal  feeling  may  often  be  a 
secondaiy,  but  it  is  seldom,  so  far  as  I have  been  able 
to  learn,  the  primary  cause  for  such  a demand.  A 
teacher  whose  manners  are  unsympathetic,  or  even 
positively  disagreeable,  will  be  nevertheless  obeyed 
and  revered  while  his  students  remain  persuaded  of 
his  capacity  as  a teacher,  and  his  sense  of  justice; 


FROM  THE  DIARY  OF  A TEACHER.  449 


and  tliey  ai'e  as  keen  to  discern  ability  as  they  are  to 
detect  partiality.  And,  on  the  other  hand,  an  ami- 
able disposition  alone  will  never  atone  with  them 
either  for  want  of  knowledge  or  for  want  of  skill 
to  impart  it.  I knew  one  case,  in  a neighboring 
public  school,  of  a demand  by  the  students  for  the 
removal  of  their  professor  of  chemistry.  In  making 
their  complaint,  they  frankly  declared:  “We  like 
him.  lie  is  kind  to  all  of  us ; he  does  the  best  he 
can.  But  he  does  not  know  enough  to  teach  us  as 
we  wish  to  be  taught.  He  cannot  answer  our  ques- 
tions. He  cannot  explain  the  experiments  which  he 
shows  us.  Our  former  teacher  could  do  all  these 
things.  We  must  have  another  teacher.”  Investi- 
gation pi'oved  that  the  lads  were  quite  right.  The 
young  teacher  had  graduated  at  the  university ; he 
had  come  well  recommended : but  he  had  no  thorough 

O 

knowledge  of  the  science  which  he  undertook  to  im- 
part, and  no  experience  as  a teacher.  The  instructor’s 
success  in  Japan  is  not  guaranteed  by  a degree,  but 
by  his  practical  knowledge  and  his  capacity  to  com- 
municate it  simply  and  thoroughly. 


X, 

November  3,  1890. 

To-day  is  the  birthday  of  His  Majesty  the  Em- 
peror. It  is  a public  holiday  throughout  Japan ; and 
there  will  be  no  teaching  this  morning.  But  at  eight 
o’clock  all  the  students  and  instructors  enter  the 
great  assembly  hall  of  the  Jinjo  Chugakkh  to  honor 
the  anniversary  of  His  iMajesty’s  august  birth. 

On  the  platform  of  the  assembly  hall  a table,  cov- 
ered with  dark  silk,  has  been  placed  ; and  upon  this 
table  the  portraits  of  Their  Imperial  Majesties,  the 


450  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


Emperor  and  the  Empress  of  Japan,  stand  side  by 
side  upright,  framed  in  gold.  The  alcove  above  the 
platform  has  been  decorated  with  flags  and  wi-eaths. 

Presently  the  Governor  enters,  looking  like  a 
French  general  in  his  gold-embroidered  uniform  of 
office,  and  followed  by  the  Mayor  of  the  city,  the 
Chief  Military  Officer,  the  Chief  of  Police,  and  all 
the  officials  of  the  provincial  government.  These 
take  their  places  in  silence  to  left  and  right  of  the 
platform.  Then  the  school  organ  suddenly  rolls  out 
the  slow,  solemn,  beautiful  national  anthem ; and 
all  present  chant  those  ancient  syllables,  made  sacred 
by  the  reverential  love  of  a century  of  generations : — 


Ki-mi  ga<L  yoo  wa 
Chi-yo  ni-i-i  ya-chi-yo  ni  sa-za-r€ 
I-shi  no 

I-wa  0 to  na-ri-te 

Ko-ke  no 

Mu-u  su-u  ma-a-a-d€.^ 


Adagio. 


1 Kimi  ga  yo  wa  chiyo  ni  yachiyo  ni  sazare  ishi  no  iwa  o to  narite 
oke  no  musu  made.  Freely  translated  : “ May  Our  Gracious  Sorer- 
ci<;n  reign  a thousand  years,  — reign  ten  thousand  thousand  years,  — 
reign  till  the  little  stone  grow  into  a mighty  rock,  thick-velveted  with 
ancient  moss ! ” 


FROM  THE  DIARY  OF  A TEACHER.  451 


The  anthem  ceases.  The  Governor  advances  with 
a slow  dignified  step  from  the  right  side  of  the  apart- 
ment to  the  centre  of  the  open  space  before  the  plat- 
form and  the  portraits  of  Their  Majesties,  turns  his 
face  to  them,  and  bows  profoundly.  Then  he  takes 
three  steps  forward  toward  the  platform,  and  halts, 
and  bows  again.  Then  he  takes  three  more  steps 
forward,  and  bows  still  more  profoundly.  Then  he 
retires,  walking  backward  six  steps,  and  bows  once 
more.  Then  he  returns  to  his  place. 

After  this,  the  teachers,  by  parties  of  six,  perform 
the  same  beautiful  ceremony.  When  all  have  saluted 
the  portrait  of  His  Imperial  iNIajesty,  the  Governor 
ascends  the  platform  and  makes  a few  eloquent 
remarks  to  the  students  about  their  duty  to  their 
Emperor,  to  their  country,  and  to  their  teachers. 
Then  the  anthem  is  sung  again ; and  all  disperse  to 
amuse  themselves  for  the  rest  of  the  day. 

XI. 

March  1,  1891. 

The  majority  of  the  students  of  the  Jinjo  Chu- 
gakko  are  day-scholars  only  (erternes,  as  we  would 
say  in  France)  : they  go  to  school  in  the  morning, 
take  their  noon  meal  at  home,  and  return  at  one 
o’clock  to  attend  the  brief  afternoon  classes.  All  the 
city  students  live  with  their  own  families ; but  there 
are  many  boys  from  remote  country  districts  who  have 
no  city  relatives,  and  for  such  the  school  furnishes 


452  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


boarding-liouses,  where  a wholesome  moral  discipline 
is  maintained  by  special  masters.  They  are  free, 
however,  if  they  have  suflBcient  means,  to  choose 
another  boarding-house  (provided  it  be  a respectable 
one),  or  to  find  quaii;ers  in  some  good  family;  but 
few  adopt  either  course. 

I doubt  whether  in  any  other  country  the  cost  of 
education  — education  of  the  most  excellent  and  ad- 
vanced kind  — is  so  little  as-  in  Japan.  The  Izumo 
student  is  able  to  live  at  a figure  so  far  below  the 
Occidental  idea  of  necessary  expenditure  that  the 
mere  statement  of  it  can  scarcely  fail  to  surprise  the 
reader.  A sum  equal  in  American  money  to  about 
twenty  dollars  supplies  him  with  board  and  lodging 
for  one  year.  The  whole  of  his  expenses,  including 
school  fees,  are  about  seven  dollars  a month.  For 
his  room  and  three  ample  meals  a day  he  pays  every 
four  weeks  only  one  yen  eighty-five  sen,  — not  much 
more  than  a dollar  and  a half  in  American  currency. 
If  very,  very  poor,  he  will  not  be  obliged  to  wear  a 
uniform  ; but  nearly  all  students  of  the  higher  classes 
do  wear  uniforms,  as  the  cost  of  a complete  uniform, 
including  cap  and  shoes  of  leather,  is  only  about 
three  and  a half  yen  for  the  cheaper  quality.  Those 
who  do  not  wear  leather  shoes,  however,  are  required, 
while  in  the  school,  to  exchange  their  noisy  wooden 
geta  for  zori  or  light  straw  sandals. 


xn. 

But  the  mental  education  so  admirably  imparted  in 
an  ordinary  middle  school  is  not,  after  all,  so  cheaply 
acquired  by  the  student  as  might  be  imagined  from 
the  cost  of  living  and  the  low  rate  of  school  fees. 
For  Nature  exacts  a heavier  school  fee,  and  rigidly 
collects  her  debt  — in  human  life. 


FROM  THE  DIARY  OF  A TEACHER.  453 


To  understand  why,  one  should  remember  that 
the  modern  knowledge  which  the  modern  Izumo  stu- 
dent must  acquire  upon  a diet  of  boiled  rice  and 
bean-curd  was  discovered,  developed,  and  synthetized 
by  minds  strengthened  upon  a costly  diet  of  flesh. 
National  underfeeding  offers  the  most  cruel  problem 
which  the  educators  of  Japan  must  solve  in  order 
that  she  may  become  fully  able  to  assimilate  the 
civilization  we  have  thrust  upon  her.  As  Herbert 
Spencer  has  pointed  out,  the  degree  of  human  energy, 
physical  or  intellectual,  must  depend  upon  the  nutri- 
tiveness of  food  ; and  history  shows  that  the  well-fed 
races  have  been  the  energetic  and  the  dominant. 
Perhaps  mind  will  rule  in  the  future  of  nations ; but 
mind  is  a mode  of  force,  and  must  be  fed  — through 
the  stomach.  The  thoughts  that  have  shaken  the 
world  were  never  framed  upon  bread  and  water: 
they  were  created  by  beefsteak  and  mutton-chops,  by 
ham  and  eggs,  by  pork  and  puddings,  and  were 
stimulated  by  generous  wines,  strong  ales,  and  strong 
coffee.  And  science  also  teaches  us  that  the  growing 
child  or  youth  requires  an  even  more  nutritious  diet 
than  the  adult ; and  that  the  student  especially  needs 
strong  nourishment  to  repair  the  physical  waste 
involved  by  brain-exertion. 

And  what  is  the  waste  entailed  upon  the  Japanese 
schoolboy’s  system  by  study  ? It  is  certainly  greater 
than  that  which  the  system  of  the  European  or 
American  student  must  suffer  at  the  same  period  of 
life.  Seven  years  of  study  are  required  to  give  the 
Japanese  youth  merely  the  necessary  knowledge  of 
his  own  triple  system  of  ideographs,  — or,  in  less  ac- 
curate but  plainer  speech,  the  enormous  alphabet  of 
his  native  literature.  That  literature,  also,  he  must 


454  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


study,  and  the  art  of  two  forms  of  his  language,  — 
the  written  and  the  spoken  : likewise,  of  course,  he 
must  learn  native  history  and  native  morals.  Besides 
these  Oriental  studies,  his  course  includes  foreign 
history,  geography,  arithmetic,  astronomy,  physics, 
geometry,  natural  history,  agriculture,  chemistry, 
drawing,  and  mathematics.  Worst  of  all,  he  must 
learn  English,  — a language  of  which  the  difficulty 
to  the  Japanese  cannot  be  even  faintly  imagined  by 
any  one  unfamiliar  with  the  construction  of  the  native 
tongue,  — a language  so  different  from  his  own  that 
the  very  simplest  Japanese  phrase  cannot  be  intelli- 
gibly rendered  into  English  by  a literal  translation 
of  the  words  or  even  the  form  of  the  thought.  And 
he  must  learn  all  this  upon  a diet  no  English  boy 
could  live  on ; and  always  thinly  clad  in  his  poor 
cotton  dress  without  even  a fire  in  his  schoolroom 
during  the  terrible  winter,  only  a hibachi  containing 
a few  lumps  of  glowing  charcoal  in  a bed  of  ashes. ^ 
Is  it  to  be  wondered  at  that  even  those  Japanese 
students  who  pass  successfully  through  all  the  educa- 
tional courses  the  Empire  can  open  to  them  can  only 
in  rare  instances  show  results  of  their  long  training 
as  large  as  those  manifested  by  students  of  the  West  ? 
Better  conditions  are  coming ; but  at  present,  under 
the  new  strain,  young  bodies  and  young  minds  too 
often  give  way.  And  those  who  break  down  are  not 
the  dullards,  but  the  pride  of  schools,  the  captains  of 
classes. 

1 Stoves,  however,  are  being  introduced.  In  the  higher  government 
schools,  and  in  the  Normal  Schools,  the  students  who  are  boarders  ob- 
tain a better  diet  than  most  poor  boys  can  get  at  home.  Their  rooms 
are  also  well  warmed. 


FROM  THE  DIARY  OF  A TEACHER.  455 


xin. 

Yet,  so  far  as  the  finances  of  the  schools  allow, 
everything  possible  is  done  to  make  the  students 
both  healthy  and  happy,  — to  furnish  them  with 
ample  opportunities  both  for  physical  exercise  and 
for  mental  enjoyment.  Though  the  course  of  study 
is  severe,  the  hours  are  not  long  : and  one  of  the  daily 
five  is  devoted  to  military  drill,  — made  more  inter- 
esting to  the  lads  by  the  use  of  real  rifles  and  bay- 
onets, furnished  by  government.  There  is  a fine 
gymnastic  ground  near  the  school,  furnished  with 
trapezes,  parallel  bars,  vaulting  horses,  etc. ; and 
there  are  two  masters  of  gymnastics  attached  to  the 
Middle  School  alone.  There  are  row-boats,  in  which 
the  boys  can  take  their  pleasure  on  the  beautiful  lake 
whenever  the  weather  permits.  There  is  an  excel- 
lent fencing-school  conducted  by  the  Governor  him- 
self, who,  although  so  heavy  a man,  is  reckoned  one 
of  the  best  fencers  of  his  own  generation.  The  style 
taught  is  the  old  one,  requiring  the  use  of  both  liands 
to  wield  the  sword  ; thrusting  is  little  attempted, 
it  is  nearly  all  heavy  slashing.  The  foils  are  made 
of  long  splinters  of  bamboo  tied  together  so  as  to 
form  something  resembling  elongated  fasces : masks 
and  wadded  coats  protect  the  head  and  body,  for  the 
blows  given  are  heavy.  This  sort  of  fencing  requires 
considerable  agility,  and  gives  more  active  exercise 
than  our  severer  Western  styles.  Yet  another  form 
of  healthy  exercise  consists  of  long  journeys  on  foot 
to  famous  placesi  Special  holidays  are  allowed  for 
these.  The  students  march  out  of  town  in  military 
order,  accompanied  by  some  of  their  favorite  teachers, 
and  perhaps  a servant  to  cook  for  them.  Thus  they 

VOL.  n. 


45G  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


may  travel  for  a hundred,  or  even  a hundred  and 
fifty  miles  and  back  ; but  if  the  journey  is  to  be  a 
very  long  one,  only  the  sti’ong  lads  are  allowed  to  go. 
They  walk  in  waraji,  the  true  straw  sandal,  closely 
tied  to  the  naked  foot,  which  it  leaves  perfectly  supple 
and  free,  without  blistering  or  producing  corns.  They 
sleep  at  night  in  Buddhist  temples ; and  their  cook- 
ing is  done  in  the  0]3en  fields,  like  that  of  soldiers 
in  camp. 

For  those  little  inclined  to  such  sturdy  exercise 
there  is  a school  library  which  is  growing  every 
year.  There  is  also  a monthly  school  magazine, 
edited  and  published  b)”^  the  boys.  And  there  is  a 
Students’  Society,  at  whose  regular  meetings  debates 
are  held  upon  all  conceivable  subjects  of  interest  to 
students. 


XIY. 

April  4,  1891. 

The  students  of  the  third,  fourth,  and  fifth  year 
classes  write  for  me  once  a week  brief  English  com- 
positions upon  easy  themes  which  I select  for  them. 
As  a I’ule  the  themes  are  Japanese.  Considering  the 
immense  difRculty  of  the  English  language  to  Japa- 
nese students,  the  ability  of  some  of  my  boys  to 
express  their  thoughts  in  it  is  astonishing.  Their 
compositions  have  also  another  interest  for  me  as  rev- 
elations, not  of  individual  character,  but  of  national 
sentiment,  or  of  aggregate  sentiment  of  some  sort  or 
other.  What  seems  to  me  most  surprising  in  the 
compositions  of  the  average  Japanese  student  is  that 
they  have  no  personal  cachet  at  all.  Even  the  hand- 
wi'iting  of  twenty  English  compositions  will  be  found 
to  have  a curious  family  resemblance ; and  striking 
exceptions  are  too  few  to  affect  the  rule.  Here  is 


FROM  THE  DIARY  OF  A TEACHER.  457 


one  of  the  best  compositions  on  my  table,  by  a stu- 
dent at  the  head  of  his  class.  Only  a few  idiomatic 
errors  have  been  corrected  : — 

“the  moon. 

“ Tlie  Moon  appears  melancholy  to  those  who  are  sad, 
and  joyous  to  those  who  are  happy.  The  Moon  makes 
memories  of  home  come  to  those  who  travel,  and  creates 
homesickness.  So  when  the  Emperor  Godaigo,  having  been 
banished  to  Oki  by  the  traitor  Hojo,  beheld  the  moonlight 
upon  the  seashore,  he  cried  out,  ‘ The  Moon  is  heartless  ! ’ 

“ The  sight  of  the  I\Ioon  makes  an  immeasurable  feeling 
in  our  hearts  when  we  look  uj)  at  it  through  the  clear  air  of 
a beauteous  night. 

“ Our  hearts  ouglit  to  be  pure  and  calm  like  the  light  of 
the  Moon. 

“Poets  often  compare  the  Moon  to  a Japanese  [metal] 
mirror  (kagami)  ; and  indeed  its  shape  is  the  same  when  it 
is  full. 

“ The  refined  man  amuses  himself  with  the  Moon.  He 
seeks  some  house  looking  out  ui)on  water,  to  watch  the 
Moon,  and  to  make  verses  about  it. 

“'Idle  best  places  from  which  to  see  the  Moon  are  Tsuki- 
gashi,  and  the  mountain  Obasute. 

“ The  light  of  the  IMoon  shines  alike  upon  foul  and  pure, 
upon  high  and  low.  Tliat  beautiful  Lamj)  is  neither  yours 
nor  mine,  hut  everybody’s. 

“ When  we  look  at  the  Moon  we  should  remember  that 
its  waxing  and  its  waning  are  the  signs  of  the  truth  that  the 
culmination  of  all  things  is  likewise  the  beginning  of  their 
decline.” 

Any  person  totally  unfamiliar  with  Japanese  edu- 
cational methods  might  presume  that  the  foregoing 
composition  shows  some  original  power  of  thought 
and  imagination.  But  this  is  not  the  case.  I found 
the  same  thoughts  and  comparisons  in  thirty  other 


458  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


compositions  upon  the  same  subject.  Indeed,  tbe 
compositions  of  any  number  of  middle-school  students 
upon  the  same  subject  are  certain  to  be  very  much 
alike  in  idea  and  sentiment  — though  they  are  none 
the  less  charming  for  that.  As  a rule  the  Japanese 
student  shows  little  originality  in  the  line  of  imagina- 
tion. His  imagination  was  made  for  him  long  cen 
turies  ago  — partly  in  China,  partly  in  his  native 
land.  From  his  childhood  he  is  trained  to  see  and  to 
feel  Nature  exactly  in  the  manner  of  those  wondrous 
artists  who,  with  a few  swift  brush-strokes,  fling 
down  upon  a sheet  of  paper  the  color-sensation  of 
a chilly  dawn,  a fervid  noon,  an  autumn  evening. 
Through  all  his  boyhood  he  is  taught  to  commit  to 
memory  the  most  beautiful  thoughts  and  comparisons 
to  be  found  in  his  ancient  native  literature.  Every 
boy  has  thus  learned  that  the  vision  of  Fuji  against 
the  blue  resembles  a wliite  half-opened  fan,  hanging 
inverted  in  the  sky.  Every  boy  knows  that  cherry- 
trees  in  full  blossom  look  as  if  the  most  delicate  of 
flushed  summer  clouds  were  caught  in  their  branches. 
Every  boy  knows  the  comparison  between  the  falling 
of  certain  leaves  on  snow  and  the  casting  down  of 
texts  upon  a sheet  of  white  paper  with  a brush. 
Every  boy  and  girl  knows  the  verses  comparing  the 
print  of  cat’s-feet  on  snow  to  plum-flowers,^  and  that 
comparing  the  impression  of  bokkuri  on  snow  to  the 
Japanese  character  for  the  number  “two.”^  These 
were  thoughts  of  old,  old  poets ; and  it  would  be 
very  hard  to  invent  prettier  ones.  Artistic  power  in 

1 Ilachi  yuki  ya 

Neko  no  ashi  ato 
Ume  no  hana. 

^ Ni  noji  fumi  dasu 
Bokkuri  kana. 


FROM  THE  DIARY  OF  A TEACHER.  459 


composition  is  chiefly  shown  by  the  correct  memoriz- 
ing and  clever  combination  of  these  old  thoughts. 

And  the  students  have  been  equally  well  trained 
to  discover  a moral  in  almost  everything,  animate  or 
inanimate.  I have  tried  them  with  a hundred  sub- 
jects— Japanese  subjects  — for  composition  ; I have 
never  found  them  to  fail  in  discovering  a moral  when 
the  theme  was  a native  one.  If  I suggested  “Fire- 
flies,” they  at  once  approved  the  topic,  and  wrote  for 
me  the  story  of  that  Chinese  student  who,  being  too 
poor  to  pay  for  a lamp,  imprisoned  many  fireflies  in 
a paper  lantern,  and  thus  was  able  to  obtain  light 
enough  to  study  after  dark,  and  to  become  eventually 
a great  scholar.  If  I said  “Frogs,”  they  wrote  for 
me  the  legend  of  Ono-no-Tofu,  who  was  persuaded 
to  become  a learned  celebrity  by  witnessing  the  tire- 
less perseverance  of  a frog  trying  to  leap  up  to  a 
willow-branch.  I subjoin  a few  specimens  of  the 
moral  ideas  which  I thus  evoked.  I have  corrected 
some  common  mistakes  in  the  originals,  but  have 
suffered  a few  singularities  to  stand  : — 

“the  botan. 

“ The  botan  [Japanese  peony]  is  large  and  beautiful  to 
see  ; but  it  has  a disagreeable  smell.  This  should  make  us 
remember  that  what  is  only  outwardly  beautiful  in  human 
society  should  not  attract  us.  To  be  attracted  by  beauty 
only  may  lead  us  into  fearful  and  fatal  misfortune.  The 
best  place  to  see  the  botan  is  the  island  of  Daikonshima  in 
tlie  lake  Nakaumi.  Tliere  in  the  season  of  its  flowerin"  all 

O 

the  island  is  red  with  its  blossoms.” 

“the  dragon. 

“ When  the  Dragon  tries  to  ride  the  clouds  and  come 
into  heaven  there  happens  immediately  a furious  storm. 


460  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 

When  the  Dragon  dwells  on  the  ground  it  is  supposed  to 
take  the  form  of  a stone  or  other  object ; but  when  it  wants 
to  rise  it  calls  a cloud.  Its  body  is  composed  of  parts  of 
many  animals.  It  has  the  eyes  of  a tiger  and  the  horns  of 
a deer  and  the  body  of  a crocodile  and  the  claws  of  an  eagle 
and  two  trunks  like  the  trunk  of  an  elephant.  It  has  a 
moral.  If  e should  try  to  he  like  the  dragon,  and  find  out 
and  adopt  all  the  good  qualities  of  others.” 

At  the  close  of  this  essay  on  the  dragon  is  a note 
to  the  teacher,  saying : “ I believe  not  there  is  any 
Dragon.  But  there  are  many  stories  and  curious 
pictures  about  Dragon.” 

“ MOSQUITOES. 

“On  summer  nights  we  hear  the  sound  of  faint  voices ; 
and  little  things  come  and  sting  our  bodies  very  violently. 
We  call  them  ka,  — in  English  ‘mosquitoes.’  I think  the 
sting  is  useful  for  us,  because  if  we  begin  to  sleep,  the  ka 
shall  come  and  sting  us,  uttering  a small  voice  ; — then  ice 
shall  be  bringed  back  to  study  by  the  sting.” 

The  following,  by  a lad  of  sixteen,  is  submitted 
only  as  a characteristic  expression  of  half-formed 
ideas  about  a less  familiar  subject. 

“EUROPEAX  AXD  JAPANESE  CUSTOMS. 

“ Europeans  wear  very  narrow  clothes  and  they  wear 
shoes  always  in  the  house.  Japanese  wear  clothes  which 
are  very  lenient  and  they  do  not  shoe  except  when  they 
walk  out-of-th e-door. 

“ What  we  think  very  strange  is  that  in  Europe  every 
wife  loves  her  husband  more  than  her  parents.  In  Nippon 
there  is  no  wife  who  more  loves  not  her  parents  than  her 
husband. 

“ And  Europeans  walk  out  in  the  road  with  their  wives, 
which  we  utterly  refuse  to,  except  on  the  festival  of  Hachi- 


man. 


FROM  THE  DIARY  OF  A TEACHER.  461 


“ The  Japanese  woman  is  treated  by  man  as  a servant, 
while  the  European  woman  is  respected  as  a master.  I 
think  these  customs  are  both  bad. 

“ We  think  it  is  very  much  trouble  to  treat  European 
ladies ; and  we  do  not  know  why  ladies  are  so  much  re- 
spected by  Europeans.” 

Conversation  in  the  class-room  about  foreign  sub- 
jects is  often  equally  amusing  and  suggestive  : — 

“ Teacher,  I have  been  told  that  if  a European 
and  his  father  and  his  wife  were  all  to  fall  into  the 
sea  together,  and  that  he  only  could  swim,  he  would 
try  to  save  his  wife  first.  Would  he  really  ? ” 

“ Probably,”  I reply. 

“ But  why  ? ” 

“ One  reason  is  that  Europeans  consider  it  a man’s 
duty  to  help  the  weaker  first  — especially  women 
and  children.” 

“ And  does  a European  love  his  wife  more  than  his 
father  and  mother  ? ” 

“Not  always  — but  generally,  perhaps,  he  does.” 

“ Why,  Teacher,  according  to  our  ideas  that  is 
very  immoral.” 

. . . “ Teacher,  how  do  European  women  carry 
their  babies  ? ” 

“ In  their  arms.” 

“Very  tiring!  And  how  far  can  a woman  walk 
carrying  a baby  in  her  arms?” 

“ A strong  woman  can  walk  many  miles  with  a 
child  in  her  arms.” 

“ But  she  cannot  use  her  hands  while  she  is  cari’y- 
ing  a baby  that  way,  can  she?  ” 

“ Not  very  well.” 

“ Then  it  is  a very  bad  way  to  carry  babies,”  etc. 


462  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


XV. 

May  1,  1891. 

My  favorite  students  often  visit  me  of  afternoons. 
They  first  send  me  their  cards,  to  announce  their 
presence.  On  being  told  to  come  in  they  leave  their 
footgear  on  the  doorstep,  enter  my  little  study,  pros- 
trate themselves ; and  we  all  squat  down  together 
on  the  floor,  which  is  in  all  Japanese  houses  like  a 
soft  mattress.  The  servant  brings  zabuton  or  small 
cushions  to  kneel  upon,  and  cakes,  and  tea. 

To  sit  as  the  Japanese  do  requires  practice;  and 
some  Europeans  can  never  acquire  the  habit.  To 
acquire  it,  indeed,  one  must  become  accustomed  to 
wearing  Japanese  costume.  But  once  the  habit  of 
thus  sitting  has  been  formed,  one  finds  it  the  most 
natural  and  easy  of  positions,  and  assumes  it  by  pref- 
erence for  eating,  reading,  smoking,  or  chatting.  It 
is  not  to  be  recommended,  perhaps,  for  writing  with 
a European  pen,  — as  the  motion  in  our  Occidental 
style  of  writing  is  from  the  supported  wrist ; but  it  is 
the  best  posture  for  writing  with  the  Japanese  fude, 
in  using  which  the  whole  arm  is  unsupported,  and  the 
motion  from  the  elbow.  After  having  become  habit- 
uated to  Japanese  habits  for  more  than  a year,  I 
must  confess  that  I find  it  now  somewhat  irksome  to 
use  a chair. 

When  we  have  all  greeted  each  other,  and  taken 
our  places  upon  the  kneeling  cushions,  a little  polite 
silence  ensues,  which  I am  the  first  to  break.  Some 
of  the  lads  speak  a good  deal  of  English.  They 
understand  me  well  when  I pronounce  every  word 
slowly  and  distinctly,  — using  simple  phrases,  and 
avoiding  idioms.  When  a word  with  which  they  are 


FROM  THE  DIARY  OF  A TEACHER.  4G3 


not  familiar  must  be  used,  we  refer  to  a good  Englisli- 
Japanese  dictionary,  which  gives  each  vernacular 
meaning  both  in  the  kana  and  in  the  Chinese  char- 
acters. 

Usually  my  young  visitors  stay  a long  time,  and  their 
stay  is  rarely  tiresome.  Their  conversation  and  their 
thoughts  are  of  the  simplest  and  frankest.  They 
do  not  come  to  learn : they  know  that  to  ask  their 
teacher  to  teach  out  of  school  would  be  unjust.  They 
speak  chiefly  of  things  which  they  think  have  some 
particular  interest  for  me.  Sometimes  they  scarcely 
speak  at  all,  but  appear  to  sink  into  a sort  of  happy 
reverie.  What  they  come  really  for  is  the  quiet  pleas- 
ure of  sympathy.  Not  an  intellectual  sympathy,  but 
the  sympathy  of  pure  good-will : the  simple  pleasure 
of  being  quite  comfortable  with  a friend.  They  peep 
at  my  books  and  pictures  ; and  sometimes  they  bring 
books  and  pictures  to  show  me,  — delightfully  queer 
things,  — family  heirlooms  which  I regret  much  that 
I cannot  buy.  They  also  like  to  look  at  my  garden, 
and  enjoy  all  that  is  in  it  even  more  than  I.  Often 
they  bring  me  gifts  of  flowers.  Never  by  any  possible 
chance  are  they  troublesome,  impolite,  curious,  or 
even  talkative.  Courtesy  in  its  utmost  possible  ex- 
quisiteness — an  exquisiteness  of  which  even  the 
French  have  no  conception  — seems  natural  to  the 
Izumo  boy  as  the  color  of  his  hair  or  the  tint  of 
his  skin.  Nor  is  he  less  kind  than  courteous.  To 
contrive  pleasurable  surprises  for  me  is  one  of  the 
particular  delights  of  my  boys ; and  they  either 
briner  or  cause  to  be  broufjht  to  the  house  all  sorts 
of  strange  things. 

Of  all  the  strange  or  beautiful  things  which  I am 
thus  privileged  to  examine,  none  gives  me  so  much 


464  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


pleasure  as  a certain  wonderful  kakemono  of  Amida 
Nyorai.  It  is  rather  a large  picture,  and  has  been 
borrowed  from  a priest  that  I may  see  it.  The  Bud- 
dha stands  in  the  attitude  of  exhortation,  with  one 
hand  uplifted.  Behind  his  head  a huge  moon  makes 
an  aureole ; and  across  the  face  of  that  moon  stream 
winding  lines  of  thinnest  cloud.  Beneath  his  feet, 
like  a rolling  of  smoke,  curl  heavier  and  darker  clouds. 
Merely  as  a work  of  color  and  design,  the  thing  is  a 
marvel.  But  the  real  wonder  of  it  is  not  in  color  or 
design  at  all.  Minute  examination  I'eveals  the  aston- 
ishing fact  that  every  shadow  and  clouding  is  formed 
by  a fairy  text  of  Chinese  characters  so  minute  that 
only  a keen  eye  can  discern  them  ; and  this  text  is 
the  entire  text  of  two  famed  siitras,  — the  Kwammu- 
ryo-ju-kyo  and  the  Amida-kyo,  — “text  no  lai’ger 
than  the  limbs  of  fleas.”  And  all  the  strong  dark 
lines  of  the  figure,  such  as  the  seams  of  the  Buddha’s 
robe,  are  formed  by  the  characters  of  the  holy  invo- 
cation of  the  Shin-shu  sect,  repeated  thousands  of 
times:  Namu  Amida  Butsu!"  Infinite  patience, 

tireless  silent  labor  of  loving  faith,  in  some  dim 
temple,  long  ago. 

Another  day  one  of  my  boys  persuades  his  father 
to  let  him  bidng  to  my  house  a wonderful  statue  of 
Koshi  (Confucius),  made,  I am  told,  in  China,  toward 
the  close  of  the  period  of  the  Ming  dynasty.  I am 
also  assured  it  is  the  first  time  the  statue  has  ever 
been  removed  fi’om  the  family  residence  to  be  shown 
to  any  one.  Previously,  whoever  desired  to  pay  it 
reverence  had  to  visit  tlie  house.  It  is  truly  a beau- 
tiful bronze.  The  figure  of  a smiling,  bearded  old 
man,  with  fingers  uplifted  and  lips  apart  as  if  dis- 


FROM  THE  DIARY  OF  A TEACHER.  465 


coursing.  He  wears  quaint  Chinese  shoes,  and  his 
flowing  robes  are  adorned  with  the  figure  of  the  mys- 
tic phoenix.  The  microscopic  finish  of  detail  seems 
indeed  to  reveal  the  wonderful  cunning  of  a Chinese 
hand : each  tooth,  each  hair,  looks  as  though  it  had 
been  made  the  subject  of  a special  study. 

Another  student  conducts  me  to  the  home  of  one 
of  his  relatives,  that  I may  see  a cat  made  of  wood, 
said  to  have  been  chiseled  by  the  famed  Hidari  Jin- 
goro,  — a cat  crouching  and  watching,  and  so  lifelike 
that  real  cats  “ have  been  known  to  put  up  their 
backs  and  spit  at  it.” 

XVI. 

Nevertheless  I liave  a private  conviction  that  some 
old  artists  even  now  living  in  Matsue  could  make  a 
still  more  wonderful  cat.  Among  these  is  the  vener- 
able Arakawa  Junosuke,  who  wrought  many  rare 
things  for  the  Daimyo  of  Izumo  in  the  Tempo  era, 
and  whose  acquaintance  I have  been  enabled  to 
make  through  my  school -friends.  One  evening  he 
brings  to  my  house  something  very  odd  to  show  me, 
concealed  in  his  sleeve.  It  is  a doll : just  a small 
carven  and  painted  head  without  a body,  — the  body 
being  represented  by  a tiny  robe  only,  attached  to 
the  neck.  Yet  as  Arakawa  Junosuke  manipulates 
it,  it  seems  to  become  alive.  The  back  of  its  head  is 
like  the  back  of  a very  old  man’s  head;  but  its  face 
is  the  face  of  an  amused  child,  and  there  is  scarcely 
any  forehead  nor  any  evidence  of  a thinking  dispo- 
sition. And  whatever  way  the  head  is  turned,  it 
looks  so  funny  that  one  cannot  help  laughing  at 
it.  It  represents  a kirakubo,  — what  we  might  call 
in  English  “ a jolly  old  boy,”  — one  who  is  naturally 
too  hearty  and  too  innocent  to  feel  trouble  of  any 


466  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


sort.  It  is  not  an  original,  but  a model  of  a very 
famous  original,  — whose  history  is  recorded  in  a 
faded  scroll  which  Arakawa  takes  out  of  his  other 
sleeve,  and  which  a friend  translates  for  me.  This 
little  history  throws  a curious  light  upon  the  simple- 
hearted  ways  of  Japanese  life  and  thought  in  other 
centuries : — 

“ Two  hundred  and  sixty  years  ago  this  doll  was  made 
by  a famous  maker  of  Ab-masks  in  the  city  of  Kyoto,  for 
the  Emperor  Go-midzu-no-0.  The  Emperor  used  to  have 
it  placed  beside  his  pillow  each  night  before  he  slept,  and 
was  very  fond  of  it.  And  he  composed  the  following  poem 
concerning  it : — 

To  no  naka  wo 
Kiraku  ni  kurase 
Nani  goto  mo 
Omoeha  omou 
Omowaneba  koso.^ 

“ On  the  death  of  the  Emperor  this  doll  became  the  prop- 
erty of  Prince  Konoye,  in  whose  family  it  is  said  to  he  stiU 
preserved. 

“ About  one  hundred  and  seven  years  ago,  the  then  Ex- 
Empress,  whose  posthumous  name  is  Sei-Kwa-Mon-Yin,  bor- 
rowed the  doll  from  Prince  Konoye,  and  ordered  a copy  of 
it  to  he  made.  This  copy  she  kept  always  beside  her,  and 
was  very  fond  of  it. 

“ After  the  death  of  the  good  Empress  this  doll  was  given 
to  a lady  of  the  court,  whose  family  name  is  not  recorded. 
Afterwards  this  lady,  for  reasons  which  are  not  known,  cut 
off  her  hair  and  became  a Buddhist  nun,  — taking  the  name 
of  Shlngyo-in. 

“ And  one  who  knew  the  Nun  Shingyo-in,  — a man  whose 
name  was  Kondo-ju-haku-in-Hokyo,  — had  the  honor  of 
receiving  the  doll  as  a gift. 

1 This  little  poem  sifinifies  that  whoever  in  this  world  thinks  much, 
must  have  care,  and  that  not  to  think  about  things  is  to  pass  one’s 
life  in  untroubled  felicity. 


FROM  THE  DIARY  OF  A TEACHER.  467 


“ Now  I,  who  write  this  document,  at  one  time  fell  sick ; 
and  my  sickness  was  caused  by  despondency.  And  my 
friend  Kondo-ju-haku-in-Hokyo,  coming  to  see  me,  said : 
‘ I liave  in  my  house  something  which  will  make  you  well.’ 
And  he  went  home  and,  presently  returning,  brought  to  me 
th  is  doll,  and  lent  it  to  me,  — putting  it  by  my  pillow  that 
I might  see  it  and  laugh  at  it. 

“Afterward,  I myself,  having  called  upon  the  Nun 
Shingyo-in,  whom  I now  also  have  the  honor  to  know,  wrote 
down  the  history  of  the  doll,  and  made  a poem  thereupon.” 

(Dated  about  ninety  years  ago  : no  signature.) 

XVII. 

June  1,  1891. 

I find  among  the  students  a healthy  tone  of  skep- 
ticism in  regard  to  certain  forms  of  popular  belief. 
Scientific  education  is  rapidly  destroying  credulity  in 
old  superstitions  yet  current  among  the  unlettered, 
and  especially  among  the  peasantry,  — as,  for  in- 
stance, faith  in  mamori  and  ofuda.  The  outward 
forms  of  Buddhism  — its  images,  its  relics,  its  com- 
moner practices  — affect  the  average  student  very  lit- 
tle. lie  is  not,  as  a foreigner  may  be,  interested  in 
iconography,  or  religious  folk-lore,  or  the  comparative 
study  of  religions  ; and  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten  he  is 
rather  ashamed  of  the  signs  and  tokens  of  popular 
faith  all  around  him.  But  the  deeper  religious  sense, 
which  underlies  all  symbolism,  remains  with  him ; 
and  the  Monistic  Idea  in  Buddhism  is  being  strength- 
ened and  expanded,  rather  than  weakened,  by  the 
new  education.  What  is  true  of  the  effect  of  the 
public  schools  upon  the  lower  Buddhism  is  equally 
true  of  its  effect  upon  the  lower  Shinto.  Shinto  the 
students  all  sincerely  are,  or  very  nearly  all ; yet  not 
as  fervent  worshipers  of  certain  Kami,  but  as  rigid 


4G8  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


observers  of  what  the  higher  Shinto  signifies,  — loy- 
alty, filial  piety,  obedience  to  parents,  teachers,  and 
superiors,  and  respect  to  ancestors.  For  Shinto 
means  more  than  faith. 

When,  for  the  first  time,  I stood  before  the  shrine 
of  the  Great  Deity  of  Kitzuki,  as  the  fii’st  Occidental 
to  whom  that  privilege  had  been  accorded,  not  with- 
out a sense  of  awe  there  came  to  me  the  thought: 
“ This  is  the  Shrine  of  the  Father  of  a Race  ; this 
is  the  symbolic  centre  of  a nation's  reverence  for  its 
past.”  And  I,  too,  paid  reverence  to  the  memory  of 
the  progenitor  of  this  people. 

As  I then  felt,  so  feels  the  intelligent  student  of 
the  Meiji  era  whom  education  has  lifted  above  the 
common  plane  of  popular  creeds.  And  Shinto  also 
means  for  him  — whether  he  reasons  upon  the  ques- 
tion or  not  — all  the  ethics  of  the  family,  and  all  that 
spirit  of  loyalty  which  has  become  so  innate  that,  at 
the  call  of  duty,  life  itself  ceases  to  have  value  save  as 
an  instrument  for  duty’s  accomplishment.  As  yet, 
this  Orient  little  needs  to  reason  about  the  origin  of 
its  loftier  ethics.  Imagine  the  musical  sense  in  our 
own  race  so  developed  that  a child  could  play  a com- 
plicated instrument  so  soon  as  the  little  fingers  gained 
sufficient  force  and  flexibility  to  strike  the  notes.  By 
some  such  comparison  only  can  one  obtain  a just  idea 
of  what  inherent  religion  and  instinctive  duty  signify 
in  Izumo. 

Of  the  rude  and  aggressive  form  of  skepticism  so 
common  in  the  Occident,  which  is  the  natural  reac- 
tion after  sudden  emancipation  from  superstitious  be- 
lief, I find  no  trace  among  my  students.  But  such 
sentiment  may  be  found  elsewhere,  — especially  in 
Tokyo,  — among  the  university  students,  one  of 


FROM  THE  DIARY  OF  A TEACHER.  469 


whom,  upon  hearing  the  tones  of  a magnificent 
temple  bell,  exclaimed  to  a friend  of  mine:  “is  it 
not  a shame  that  in  this  nineteenth  century  we  must 
still  hear  such  a sound?'' 

For  the  benefi^t  of  curious  travelers,  however,  I 
may  here  take  occasion  to  observe  that  to  talk  Bud- 
dhism to  Japanese  gentlemen  of  the  new  school  is  in 
just  as  bad  taste  as  to  talk  Christianity  at  home  to 
men  of  that  class  whom  knowledge  has  placed  above 
creeds  and  forms.  There  ai’e,  of  course,  Japanese 
scholars  willing  to  aid  researches  of  foreign  scholars 
in  religion  or  in  folk-lore  ; but  these  specialists  do  not 
undertake  to  gratify  idle  curiosity  of  the  “ globe- 
trotting ” description.  I may  also  say  that  the  for- 
eigner desirous  to  learn  the  religious  ideas  or  super- 
stitions of  the  common  people  must  obtain  them 
from  the  people  themselves,  — not  from  the  educated 
classes. 

XTin. 

Among  all  my  favorite  students  — two  or  three 
from  each  class  — I cannot  decide  whom  I like  the 
best.  Each  has  a particular  merit  of  his  own.  But 
I think  the  names  and  faces  of  those  of  whom  I am 
about  to  speak  will  longest  remain  vivid  in  my  re- 
membrance,— Ishihara,  Otani- Masanobu,  Adzuki- 
zawa,  Yokogi,  Shida. 

Ishihara  is  a samurai,  a very  influential  lad  in 
his  class  because  of  his  uncommon  force  of  character. 
Compared  with  others,  he  has  a somewhat  brusque, 
independent  manner,  pleasing,  however,  by  its  hon- 
est manliness.  He  says  everything  he  thinks,  and 
precisely  in  the  tone  that  he  thinks  it,  even  to  the 
degree  of  being  a little  embarrassing  sometimes.  He 


470  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


does  not  hesitate,  for  example,  to  find  fault  -with  a 
teacher’s  method  of  explanation,  and  to  insist  upon 
a more  lucid  one.  He  has  criticised  me  more  than 
once ; but  I never  found  that  he  was  wrong.  We 
like  each  other  very  much.  He  often  brings  me 
flowers. 

One  day  that  he  had  brought  two  beautiful  sprays 
of  plum-blossoms,  he  said  to  me  : — 

“I  saw  you  bow  before  our  Emperor’s  picture  at 
the  ceremony  on  the  birthday  of  His  Majesty.  You 
are  not  like  a former  English  teacher  we  had.” 

“ How?” 

“ He  said  we  were  savages.” 

“Why?” 

“ He  said  there  is  nothing  respectable  except  God, 
— his  God,  — and  that  only  vulgar  and  ignorant  peo- 
ple respect  anything  else.” 

“ Where  did  he  come  from  ? ” 

“ He  was  a Christian  clergyman,  and  said  he  was 
an  English  subject.” 

“ But  if  he  was  an  English  subject,  he  was  bound 
to  respect  Her  Majesty  tlie  Queen.  He  could  not  even 
enter  the  office  of  a British  consul  without  removing 
his  hat.” 

“I  don’t  know  what  he  did  in  the  country  he  came 
from.  But  that  was  what  he  said.  Now  we  think 
we  should  love  and  honor  our  Emperor.  We  think 
it  is  a duty.  We  think  it  is  a joy.  We  think  it  is 
happiness  to  be  able  to  give  our  lives  for  our 
Emperor.^  But  he  said  we  were  only  savages  — 
ignorant  savages.  What  do  you  think  of  that  ? ” 

* Having  asked  in  various  classes  for  written  answers  to  the  ques- 
tion, “ What  is  your  dearest  wish?”  I found  about  twenty  per  cent, 
of  the  replies  expressed,  with  little  variation  of  words,  the  simple 


FROM  THE  DIARY  OF  A TEACHER.  471 


“ I think,  my  dear  lad,  that  he  himself  was  a sav- 
age,— a vulgar,  ignorant,  savage  bigot.  I think  it 
is  your  highest  social  duty  to  honor  your  Emperor, 
to  obey  his  laws,  and  to  be  ready  to  give  your  blood 
whenever  he  may  require  it  of  you  for  the  sake  of 
Japan.  I think  it  is  your  duty  to  respect  the  gods 
of  your  fathers,  the  religion  of  your  country,  — even 
if  you  yourself  cannot  believe  all  that  others  believe. 
And  I think,  also,  that  it  is  your  duty,  for  your 
Emperor’s  sake  and  for  your  country’s  sake,  to  resent 
any  such  wicked  and  vulgar  language  as  that  you 
have  told  me  of,  no  matter  by  whom  uttered.” 

Masanobu  visits  me  seldom  and  always  comes 
alone.  A slender,  handsome  lad,  with  rather  femi- 
nine features,  reserved  and  perfectly  self-possessed 
in  manner,  refined.  He  is  somewhat  serious,  does 
not  often  smile ; and  I never  heard  him  laugh.  He 
has  risen  to  the  head  of  his  class,  and  appears  to 
remain  there  without  any  extraordinary  effort.  Much 
of  his  leisure  time  he  devotes  to  botany  — collecting 
and  classifying  plants.  He  is  a musician,  like  all 
the  male  members  of  his  family.  He  plays  a variety 
of  instruments  never  seen  or  heard  of  in  the  West, 
including  flutes  of  marble,  flutes  of  ivory,  flutes  of 
bamboo  of  wonderful  shapes  and  tones,  and  that 
shrill  Chinese  instrument  called  sho, — a sort  of 
mouth-organ  consisting  of  seventeen  tubes  of  differ- 
ent lengths  fixed  in  a silver  frame.  He  first  ex- 
plained to  me  the  uses  in  temple  music  of  the  taiko 

desire  to  die  “ for  Hi.s  Sacred  Majesty,  Our  Beloved  Emperor.”  But 
a considerable  proportion  of  the  remainder  contained  the  same  aspi- 
ration, less  directly  stated  in  the  wish  to  emulate  the  glory  of  Nelson, 
or  to  make  Japan  first  among  nations  by  heroism  and  sacrifice. 
TVhile  this  splendid  spirit  lives  in  the  hearts  of  her  youth,  Japan 
should  have  little  to  fear  for  the  future. 


VOL.  II. 


472  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


and  shoko,  which  are  drums;  of  the  flutes  called 
fei  or  teki;  of  the  flageolet  termed  hichiriki ; and 
of  the  kakko,  which  is  a little  drum  shaped  like  a 
spool  with  vei’y  narrow  waist.  On  great  Buddhist 
festivals,  Masanobu  and  his  father  and  his  brothers 
are  the  musicians  in  the  temple  services,  and  they 
play  the  strange  music  called  Ojo  and  Batto,  — music 
which  at  first  no  Western  ear  can  feel  pleasure  in, 
but  which,  when  often  heard,  becomes  comprehensi- 
ble, and  is  found  to  possess  a weird  charm  of  its  owm. 
When  Masanobu  comes  to  the  house,  it  is  usually 
in  order  to  invite  me  to  attend  some  Buddhist  or 
Shinto  festival  (niatisuri)  which  he  knows  will  inter- 
est me. 

AdzukizaAva  bears  so  little  resemblance  to  Masa- 
nobu that  one  might  suppose  the  two  belonged  to 
totally  different  races,  AdzukizaAva  is  large,  raw- 
boned,  heavy-looking,  with  a face  singularly  like  that 
of  a North  American  Indian.  His  people  are  not 
rich ; he  can  afford  feAV  pleasures  which  cost  money, 
except  one,  — buying  books.  Even  to  be  able  to  do 
this  he  works  in  his  leisure  hours  to  earn  money.  He 
is  a perfect  bookworm,  a natural-born  researcher,  a 
collector  of  curious  documents,  a haunter  of  all  the 
queer  second-hand  stores  in  Teramachi  and  other 
streets  where  old  manuscripts  or  prints  are  on  sale  as 
waste  paper.  He  is  an  omnivorous  reader,  and  a per- 
petual borroAver  of  volumes,  which  he  always  returns 
in  perfect  condition  after  having  copied  what  he 
deemed  of  most  value  to  him.  But  his  special 
delight  is  philosophy  and  the  history  of  philosophers 
in  all  countries.  He  has  read  various  epitomes  of 
the  history  of  philosophy  in  the  Occident,  and  every- 
thing of  modern  philosophy  Avhich  has  been  trans- 


FROM  THE  DIARY  OF  A TEACHER.  473 


lated  into  Japanese,  — including  Spencer’s  “First 
Principles.”  I have  been  able  to  introduce  him  to 
Lewes  and  John  Fiske,  — both  of  which  he  appreci- 
ates, — although  the  strain  of  studying  philosophj'^  in 
English  is  no  small  one.  Happily  he  is  so  strong  that 
no  amount  of  study  is  likely  to  injure  his  health,  and 
his  nerves  are  tough  as  wire.  He  is  quite  an  ascetic 
withal.  As  it  is  the  Japanese  custom  to  set  cakes 
and  tea  before  visitors,  I always  have  both  in  readi- 
ness, and  an  especially  fine  quality  of  kwashi,  made 
at  Kitzuki,  of  which  the  students  are  very  fond.  Ad- 
zukizawa  alone  refuses  to  taste  cakes  or  confection- 
ery of  any  kind,  saying : “ As  I am  the  youngest 

brother,  I must  begin  to  earn  my  own  living  soon. 
I shall  have  to  endure  much  hardship.  And  if  I 
allow  myself  to  like  dainties  now,  I shall  only  suffer 
more  later  on.”  Adzukizawa  has  seen  much  of  hu- 
man life  and  character.  He  is  naturally  observant ; 
and  he  has  managed  in  some  extraordinary  way  to 
learn  the  history  of  everybody  in  Matsue.  He  has 
brought  me  old  tattered  prints  to  prove  that  the 
opinions  now  held  by  our  director  are  diametrically 
opposed  to  the  opinions  he  advocated  fourteen  years 
ago  in  a public  address.  I asked  the  director  about 
it.  He  laughed  and  said,  “ Of  course  that  is  Adzu- 
kizawa ! But  he  is  right : I was  very  young  then.” 
And  I wonder  if  Adzukizawa  was  ever  young. 

Yokogi,  Adzukizawa’s  dearest  friend,  is  a very  rare 
visitor  ; for  he  is  always  studying  at  home.  He  is 
always  first  in  his  class,  — the  third  year  class,  — 
while  Adzukizawa  is  fourth.  Adzukizawa’s  account 
of  the  beginning  of  their  acquaintance  is  this : “ I 
watched  him  wdien  he  came  and  saw  that  he  spoke 
very  little,  walked  very  quickly,  and  looked  straight 


474  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


into  everybody’s  eyes.  So  I knew  be  had  a particular 
cliaracter.  1 like  to  know  people  with  a particular 
character.”  Adzukizawa  was  perfectly  right:  under 
a very  gentle  exterior,  Yokogi  has  an  extremely 
strong  character.  He  is  the  son  of  a carpenter  ; and 
his  parents  could  not  afford  to  send  him  to  the  IMid- 
dle  School.  But  he  bad  shown  such  exceptional 
qualities  while  in  the  Elementary  School  that  a 
wealthy  man  became  interested  in  him,  and  offered  to 
pay  for  his  education. ^ He  is  now  the  pride  of  the 
school.  He  has  a remarkably  placid  face,  with  pecu- 
liarly long  eyes,  and  a delicious  smile.  In  class  he 
is  always  asking  intelligent  questions  — questions 
so  original  that  I am  sometimes  extremely  puzzled 
how  to  answer  them  ; and  he  never  ceases  to  ask 
until  the  explanation  is  quite  satisfactory  to  himself. 
He  never  cares  about  the  ojjinion  of  his  comrades  if 
he  thinks  he  is  right.  On  one  occasion  when  the 
whole  class  refused  to  attend  the  lectures  of  a new 
teacher  of  physics,  Yokogi  alone  refused  to  act  with 
them,  — arguing  that  although  the  teacher  was  not 
all  that  could  be  desired,  there  was  no  immediate 
possibility  of  his  removal,  and  no  just  reason  for 
making  unhappy  a man  who,  though  unskilled,  was 
sincerely  doing  his  best.  Adzukizawa  finally  stood 
by  him.  These  two  alone  attended  the  lectures  until 
the  remainder  of  the  students,  two  weeks  later,  found 
that  Yokogi’s  views  were  rational.  On  another  oc- 
casion when  some  vulgar  proselytism  was  attempted 
by  a Christian  missionar}-,  Yokogi  went  boldly  to  the 
proselytizer’s  house,  argued  with  him  on  the  morality 
of  his  effort,  and  reduced  him  to  silence.  Some  of 
his  comrades  praised  his  cleverness  in  the  argument. 

1 Beautiful  geuerosities  of  this  kind  are  not  uucomiuon  in  Japan. 


FROM  THE  DIARY  OF  A TEACHER.  475 


“I  am  not  clever,”  he  made  answer:  “it  does  not 
require  cleverness  to  argue  against  what  is  morally 
wrong  ; it  requires  only  the  knowledge  that  one  is 
morally  right.”  At  least  such  is  about  the  transla- 
tion of  what  he  said  as  told  me  by  Adzukizawa. 

Shida,  another  visitor,  is  a very  delicate,  sensitive 
boy,  whose  soul  is  full  of  art.  He  is  very  skillful  at 
drawing  and  painting ; and  be  has  a wonderful  set 
of  picture-books  by  the  old  Japanese  masters.  The 
last  time  he  came  he  brought  some  prints  to  show 
me,  — rare  ones,  — fairy  maidens  and  ghosts.  As  I 
looked  at  his  beautiful  pale  face  and  weirdly  frail 
fingers,  I could  not  help  fearing  for  him,  — fearing 
that  he  might  soon  become  a little  ghost. 

I have  not  seen  him  now  for  more  than  two 
months.  He  has  been  very,  very  ill ; and  his  lungs 
are  so  weak  that  the  doctor  has  forbidden  him  to 
converse.  But  Adzukizawa  has  been  to  visit  him, 
and  brings  me  this  translation  of  a Japanese  letter 
which  the  sick  boy  wrote  and  pasted  upon  the  wall 
above  his  bed  : — 

“ Thou,  my  Lord-Soul,  dost  govern  me.  Thou  knowest 
that  I cannot  now  govern  myself.  Deign,  I pray  thee,  to 
let  me  be  cured  speedily.  Do  not  suffer  me  to  speak  much. 
Make  me  to  obey  in  all  things  the  command  of  the  physi- 
cian. 

“This  ninth  day  of  the  eleventh  month  of  the  twenty- 
fourth  year  of  Meiji. 

“ From  the  sick  body  of  Shida  to  his  Soul.” 

XIX. 

September  4,  1891. 

The  long  summer  vacation  is  over ; a new  school 
year  begins. 


476  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


There  have  been  many  changes.  Some  of  the  boys 
I taught  are  dead.  Others  have  graduated  and  gone 
away  from  Matsue  forever.  Some  teachers,  too,  have 
left  the  school,  and  their  places  have  been  filled ; 
and  there  is  a new  Director. 

And  the  dear  good  Governor  has  gone  — been 
transferred  to  cold  Niigata  in  the  northwest.  It 
was  a promotion.  But  he  had  ruled  Izumo  for  seven 
years,  and  everybody  loved  him,  especially,  perhaps, 
the  students,  who  looked  upon  him  as  a father.  All 
the  population  of  the  city  crowded  to  the  river  to  bid 
him  farewell.  The  streets  through  which  he  passed 
on  his  way  to  take  the  steamer,  the  bridge,  the 
wharves,  even  the  roofs  were  thronged  with  multi- 
tudes eager  to  see  his  face  for  the  last  time.  Thou- 
sands were  weeping.  And  as  the  steamer  glided  from 
the  wharf  such  a cry  arose,  — A-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a  ! ” 
It  was  intended  for  a cheer,  but  it  seemed  to  me  the 
cry  of  a whole  city  sorrowing,  and  so  plaintive  that 
I hope  never  to  hear  such  a cry  again. 

The  names  and  faces  of  the  younger  classes  are  all 
strange  to  me.  Doubtless  this  was  why  the  sensation 
of  my  first  day’s  teaching  in  the  school  came  back 
to  me  with  extraordinary  vividness  when  I entered 
the  class-room  of  First  Division  A this  morning. 

Strangely  pleasant  is  the  first  sensation  of  a Japa- 
nese class,  as  you  look  over  the  ranges  of  young  faces 
before  you.  There  is  nothing  in  them  familiar  to 
inexperienced  Western  ej^es ; yet  there  is  an  inde- 
scribable pleasant  something  common  to  all.  Those 
traits  have  nothing  incisive,  nothing  forcible : com- 
pared with  Occidental  faces  they  seem  but  “half- 
sketched,”  so  soft  their  outlines  are  — indicating 
neither  aggressiveness  nor  shyness,  neither  eccentri- 


FROM  THE  DIARY  OF  A TEACHER.  477 


city  nor  sympathy,  neither  curiosity  nor  indifference. 
Some,  although  faces  of  youths  well  grown,  have  a 
childish  freshness  and  frankness  indescribable  ; some 
are  as  uninteresting  as  others  are  attractive ; a few 
are  beautifully  feminine.  But  all  are  equally  char- 
acterized by  a singular  placidity,  — expressing  nei- 
ther love  nor  hate  nor  anything  save  perfect  repose 
and  gentleness,  — like  the  dreamy  placidity  of  Bud- 
dhist images.  At  a later  day  you  will  no  longer 
recognize  this  aspect  of  passionless  composure  : with 
growing  acquaintance  each  face  will  become  more 
and  moi’e  individualized  for  you  by  characteristics 
before  imperceptible.  But  the  recollection  of  that 
first  impression  will  remain  with  you ; and  the  time 
will  come  when  you  will  find,  by  many  varied  expe- 
riences, how  strangely  it  foreshadowed  something  in 
Japanese  character  to  be  fully  learned  only  after 
years  of  familiarity.  You  will  recognize  in  the  mem- 
ory of  that  first  impression  one  glimpse  of  the  race- 
soul,  with  its  impersonal  lovableness  and  its  imper- 
sonal weaknesses,  — one  glimpse  of  the  nature  of  a 
life  in  which  the  Occidental,  dwelling  alone,  feels  a 
psychic  comfort  comparable  only  to  the  nervous  relief 
of  suddenly  emerging  from  some  stifling  atmospheric 
pressure  into  thin,  clear,  free  living  air. 


XX. 

Was  it  not  the  eccenti’ic  Fourier  who  wrote  about 
the  horrible  faces  of  “ the  civilizes  ? ” Whoever  it 
was,  would  have  found  seeming  confirmation  of  his 
physiognomical  theory  could  he  have  known  the 
effect  produced  by  the  first  sight  of  European  faces 
in  the  most  eastern  East.  What  we  are  taught  at 
home  to  consider  handsome,  interesting,  or  character- 


478  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 

istic  in  physiognomy  does  not  produce  the  same  im- 
pression  in  China  or  Japan.  Shades  of  facial  expres- 
sion familiar  to  us  as  letters  of  our  own  alphabet  are 
not  perceived  at  all  in  Western  features  by  these 
Orientals  at  first  acquaintance.  What  they  discern 
at  once  is  the  race-characteristic,  not  the  individual- 
ity. The  evolutional  meaning  of  the  deep-set  West- 
ern eye,  protruding  brow,  accipitrine  nose,  ponderous 
jaw  — symbols  of  aggressive  force  and  habit  — was 
revealed  to  the  gentler  race  by  the  same  sort  of  in- 
tuition through  which  a tame  animal  immediately 
comprehends  the  dangerous  nature  of  the  first  pre- 
datory enemy  which  it  sees.  To  Europeans  the 
smooth  - featured,  slender,  low-statured  Japanese 
seemed  like  boys ; and  “ boy  ” is  the  term  by  which 
the  native  attendant  of  a Yokohama  merchant  is 
still  called.  To  Japanese  the  first  red-haired,  rowdy, 
drunken  European  sailors  seemed  fiends,  shojo,  de- 
mons of  the  sea;  and  by  the  Chinese  the  Occidentals 
are  still  called  “ foreign  devils.”  The  great  stature 
and  massive  strength  and  fierce  gait  of  foreigners 
in  Japan  enhanced  the  strange  impression  created 
by  their  faces.  Children  cried  for  fear  on  seeing 
them  pass  through  the  streets.  And  in  remoter  dis- 
tricts, Japanese  children  are  still  apt  to  cry  at  the 
first  sight  of  a European  or  American  face. 

A lady  of  Matsue  related  in  my  presence  this  curi- 
ous souvenir  of  her  childhood : “ When  I was  a 
very  little  girl,”  she  said,  “ our  daimyo  hired  a for- 
eigner to  teach  the  military  art.  My  father  and  a 
great  many  samurai  went  to  receive  the  foreigner ; 
and  all  the  people  lined  the  streets  to  see,  — for  no 
foreigner  had  ever  come  to  Izumo  before ; and  we  all 


FROM  THE  DIARY  OF  A TEACHER.  479 


went  to  look.  The  foreigner  came  by  ship : there 
were  no  steamboats  here  then.  He  was  very  tall, 
and  walked  quickly  with  long  steps ; and  the  children 
began  to  cry  at  the  sight  of  him,  because  his  face 
was  not  like  the  faces  of  the  people  of  Nihon.  My 
little  brother  cried  out  loud,  and  hid  his  face  in 
mother’s  robe ; and  mother  reproved  him  and  said : 
‘ This  foreigner  is  a very  good  man  who  has  come 
here  to  serve  our  prince ; and  it  is  very  disrespectful 
to  cry  at  seeing  him.’  But  he  still  cried.  I was  not 
afraid ; and  I looked  up  at  the  foreigner’s  face  as  he 
came  and  smiled.  He  had  a great  beard ; and  I 
thought  his  face  was  good  though  it  seemed  to  me  a 
very  strange  face  and  stern.  Then  he  stopped  and 
smiled  too,  and  put  something  in  my  hand,  and 
touched  my  head  and  face  very  softly  with  his  great 
fingers,  and  said  something  I could  not  understand, 
and  went  away.  After  he  had  gone  I looked  at  what 
he  put  into  my  hand  and  found  that  it  was  a pretty 
little  glass  to  look  through.  If  you  put  a fly  under 
that  glass  it  looks  quite  big.  At  that  time  I thought 
the  glass  was  a very  wonderful  thing.  I have  it 
still.”  She  took  from  a drawer  in  the  room  and 
placed  before  me  a tiny,  dainty  pocket-microscope. 

The  hero  of  this  little  incident  was  a French  mili- 
tary officer.  His  services  were  necessarily  dispensed 
with  on  the  abolition  of  the  feudal  system.  Memo- 
ries of  him  still  linger  in  Matsue  ; and  old  people 
remember  a popular  snatch  about  him,  — a sort  of 
rapidly  - vociferated  rigmarole,  supposed  to  be  an 
imitation  of  his  foreign  speech. 

Tojin  no  negoto  niwa  kinkarakuri  medagasho, 

Saiboji  ga  shimpeishite  harishiie  keisan, 

Hanrjo  na  Sacr-r-r-r-r-i-na-nom-da-Jiu. 


480  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


XXL 

November  2, 1891. 

Shida  will  never  come  to  school  again.  He  sleeps 
under  the  shadow  of  the  cedars,  in  the  old  cemetery 
of  Tokoji.  Yokogi,  at  the  memorial  service,  read  a 
beautiful  address  (^saibun)  to  the  soul  of  his  dead 
comrade. 

But  Yokogi  himself  is  down.  And  I am  very 
much  afraid  for  him.  He  is  suffering  from  some 
affection  of  the  brain,  brought  on,  the  doctor  says, 
by  studying  a great  deal  too  hard.  Even  if  he  gets 
well,  he  will  always  have  to  be  careful.  Some  of  us 
hope  much ; for  the  boy  is  vigorously  built  and  so 
young.  Strong  Sakane  burst  a blood-vessel  last  month 
and  is  now  well.  So  we  trust  that  Yokogi  may  rally. 
Adzukizawa  daily  brings  news  of  his  friend. 

But  the  rally  never  comes.  Some  mysterious 
spring  in  the  mechanism  of  the  young  life  has  been 
broken.  The  mind  lives  only  in  brief  intervals  be- 
tween long  hours  of  unconsciousness.  Parents  watch, 
and  friends,  for  these  living  moments  to  whisper 
caressing  things,  or  to  ask : “ Is  there  anything 

thou  dost  wish  ? ” And  one  night  the  answer 
comes : — 

“Yes:  I want  to  gO  to  the  school;  I want  to 
see  the  school.” 

Then  they  wonder  if  the  fine  brain  has  not  wholly 
given  way,  while  they  make  answer : — 

“ It  is  midnight  past,  and  there  is  no  moon.  And 
the  night  is  cold.” 

“ No ; I can  see  by  the  stars  — I want  to  see  the 
school  again.” 


FROM  THE  DIARY  OF  A TEACHER.  481 


They  make  kindliest  protests  in  vain  : the  dying 
boy  only  repeats,  with  the  plaintive  persistence  of  a 
last  ^Yish,  — 

“ I want  to  see  the  school  again ; I want  to  see  it 
now.” 

So  there  is  a murmured  consultation  in  the  neigh- 
boring room ; and  tansu-drawers  are  unlocked,  warm 
garments  prepared.  Then  Fusaichi,  the  strong  ser- 
vant, enters  with  lantern  lighted,  and  cries  out  in  his 
kind  rough  voice  : — 

“ Master  Torni  will  go  to  the  school  upon  my 
back:  ’tis  but  a little  way;  he  shall  see  the  school 
again.” 

Carefully  they  wrap  up  the  lad  in  wadded  robes ; 
then  he  puts  his  arms  about  Fusaichi’s  shoulders  like 
a child ; and  the  strong  servant  bears  him  lightly 
through  the  wintry  street;  and  the  father  hurries 
beside  Fusaichi,  bearing  the  lantern.  And  it  is  not 
far  to  the  school,  over  the  little  bridge. 

The  huge  dark  gray  building  looks  almost  black 
in  the  night;  but  Yokogi  can  see.  He  looks  at  the 
windows  of  his  own  class-room  ; at  the  roofed  side- 
door  where  each  morning  for  four  happy  years  he 
used  to  exchange  his  getas  for  soundless  sandals  of 
straw ; at  the  lodge  of  the  slumbering  Kodzukai ; ^ 
at  the  silhouette  of  the  bell  hanging  black  in  its  little 
turret  against  the  stars. 

Then  he  murmurs : — 

“I  can  remember  all  now.  I had  forgotten  — so 
sick  I was.  I remember  everything  again.  Oh, 
Fusaichi,  you  are  very  good.  I am  so  glad  to  have 
seen  the  school  again.” 

And  they  hasten  back  through  the  long  void 
streets. 


1 The  college  porter. 


482  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


xxn. 

November  26,  1891. 

Yokogi  will  be  buried  to-morrow  evening  beside 
his  comrade  Sliida. 

When  a poor  person  is  about  to  die,  friends  and 
neighbors  come  to  the  house  and  do  all  they  can  to 
help  the  family.  Some  bear  the  tidings  to  distant 
relatives  ; others  prepare  all  necessary  things  ; others, 
when  the  death  has  been  announced,  summon  the 
Buddliist  priests.^ 

It  is  said  that  the  priests  know  always  of  a parish- 
ioner’s death  at  night,  before  any  messenger  is  sent 
to  them  ; for  the  soul  of  the  dead  knocks  heavily, 
once,  upon  the  door  of  the  family  temple.  Then  the 
priests  arise  and  robe  themselves,  and  when  the  mes- 
senger comes  make  answer:  “We  know:  we  are 

ready.” 

Meanwhile  the  body  is  carried  out  before  the 
family  butsudan,  and  laid  upon  the  floor.  No  pillow 
is  placed  under  the  head.  A naked  sword  is  laid 
across  the  limbs  to  keep  evil  spirits  away.  The  doors 
of  the  butsudan  are  opened  ; and  tapers  are  lighted 
before  the  tablets  of  the  ancestors  ; and  incense  is 
burned.  All  friends  send  gifts  of  incense.  Where- 
fore a gift  of  incense,  however  rare  and  precious, 
given  upon  any  other  occasion,  is  held  to  be  un- 
lucky. 

But  the  Shinto  household  shrine  must  be  hidden 

^ Except  in  those  comparatively  rare  instances  where  the  family 
is  exclusively  Shinto  in  its  faith,  or,  although  belonging  to  both  faiths, 
prefers  to  bury  its  dead  according  to  Shinto  rites.  In  Matsue,  as  a 
rule,  high  officials  only  have  Shinto  funerals. 


FROM  THE  DIARY  OF  A TEACHER.  483 


from  view  with  white  paper ; and  the  Shinto  ofuda 
fastened  upon  the  house  door  must  be  covered  up 
during  all  the  period  of  mourningd  And  in  all  that 
time  no  member  of  the  family  may  approach  a Shinto 
temple,  or  pray  to  the  Kami,  or  even  pass  beneath  a 
torii. 

A screen  (hiohu)  is  extended  between  the  body 
and  the  principal  entrance  of  the  death  chamber; 
and  the  kaimyo,  inscribed  upon  a strip  of  white 
paper,  is  fastened  upon  the  screen.  If  the  dead  be 
young  the  screen  must  be  turned  upside-down  ; but 
this  is  not  done  in  the  case  of  old  people. 

Friends  pray  beside  the  corpse.  There  a little 
box  is  placed,  containing  one  thousand  peas,  to  be 
used  for  counting  during  the  recital  of  those  one 
thousand  pious  invocations,  which,  it  is  believed, 
will  improve  the  condition  of  the  soul  on  its  unfa- 
miliar journey. 

The  priests  come  and  recite  the  sutras ; and  then 
the  body  is  prepared  for  burial.  It  is  washed  in 
warm  water,  and  robed  all  in  white.  But  the 
kimono  of  the  dead  is  lapped  over  to  the  left  side. 
Wherefore  it  is  considered  unlucky  at  any  other  time 
to  fasten  one’s  kimono  thus,  even  by  accident. 


1 Unless  the  dead  be  buried  according  to  the  Shinto  rite.  In  Ma- 
tsue  the  mourning  period  is  usually  fifty  days.  On  the  fifty-first  day 
after  the  decease,  all  members  of  the  family  go  to  Enjoji-nada  (the 
lake-shore  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  on  which  the  great  temple  of  Enjoji 
stands)  to  perform  the  ceremony  of  purification.  At  Enjoji-nada,  on 
the  beach,  stands  a lofty  stone  statue  of  Jizo.  Before  it  the  mourners 
pray  ; then  wash  their  mouths  and  bands  with  the  water  of  the  lake. 
Afterwards  they  go  to  a friend’s  house  for  breakfast,  the  purification 
being  always  performed  at  daybreak,  if  possible.  During  the  mourn- 
ing period,  no  member  of  the  family  can  eat  at  a friend’s  house.  But 
if  the  burial  has  been  according  to  the  Shinto  rite,  all  these  cere- 
monial observances  may  be  dispensed  with. 


484  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


When  the  body  has  been  put  into  that  strange 
square  coffin  which  looks  something  like  a wooden 
palanquin,  each  relative  puts  also  into  the  coffin  some 
of  his  or  her  hair  or  nail  parings,  symbolizing  their 
blood.  And  six  rin  are  also  placed  in  the  coffin,  for 
the  six  Jizd  who  stand  at  the  heads  of  the  ways  of  the 
Six  Shadowy  Worlds. 

The  funeral  procession  forms  at  the  family  resi- 
dence. A priest  leads  it,  ringing  a little  bell ; a boy 
bears  the  ihai  of  the  newly  dead.  The  van  of  the 
procession  is  wholly  composed  of  men  — relatives  and 
friends.  Some  carry  hata,  white  symbolic  bannerets ; 
some  bear  flowers ; all  carry  paper  lanterns,  — for 
in  Izumo  the  adult  dead  are  buried  after  dark:  only 
children  are  buried  by  day.  Xext  comes  the  kwan 
or  coffin,  borne  palanquin-wise  upon  the  shoulders 
of  men  of  that  pariah  caste  whose  office  it  is  to  dig 
graves  and  assist  at  funerals.  Lastly  come  the  wo- 
men mourners. 

They  are  all  white-hooded  and  white-robed  from 
head  to  feet,  like  phantoms.^  Xotliing  more  ghostly 
than  this  sheeted  train  of  an  Izumo  funeral  pro- 
cession, illuminated  only  by  the  glow  of  paper  lan- 
terns, can  be  imagined.  It  is  a weirdness  that,  once 
seen,  will  often  return  in  dreams. 

At  the  temple  the  kwan  is  laid  upon  the  pavement 
before  the  entrance  ; and  another  service  is  performed, 
with  plaintive  music  and  recitation  of  sutras.  Then 
the  procession  forms  again,  winds  once  round  the 
temple  court,  and  takes  its  way  to  the  cemetery.  But 
the  body  is  not  buried  until  twenty-four  hours  later, 
lest  the  supposed  dead  should  awake  in  the  grave. 

1 But  at  samurai  funerals  in  the  olden  time  the  women  were  robed 
in  black. 


FROM  THE  DIARY  OF  A TEACHER.  485 


Corpses  are  seldom  burned  in  Izumo.  In  this,  as 
in  other  matters,  the  predominance  of  Sliinto  senti- 
ment is  manifest. 

xxin. 

For  the  last  time  I see  his  face  again,  as  he  lies 
upon  his  bed  of  death, — white-robed  from  neck  to 
feet,  — wliite-girdled  for  his  shadowy  journey,  — but 
smiling  with  closed  eyes  in  almost  the  same  queer 
gentle  Avay  he  was  wont  to  smile  at  class  on  learning 
the  explanation  of  some  seeming  riddle  in  our  difficult 
English  tongue.  Only,  methinks,  the  smile  is  sweeter 
now,  as  with  sudden  larger  knowledge  of  more  mys- 
terious things.  So  smiles,  through  dusk  of  incense  in 
the  great  temple  of  Tokoji,  the  golden  face  of  Bud- 
dha. 

XXIV. 

December  23,  1891. 

The  great  bell  of  Tokoji  is  booming  for  the  me- 
morial service,  — for  the  tsuito-kwai  of  Yokogi, — 
slowly  and  regularly  as  a minute-gun.  Peal  on  peal 
of  its  rich  bronze  thunder  shakes  over  the  lake, 
surges  over  the  roofs  of  the  town,  and  breaks  in  deep 
sobs  of  sound  against  the  green  circle  of  the  hills. 

It  is  a touching  service,  this  tsuito-kwai,  with 
quaint  ceremonies  which,  although  long  since  adopted 
into  Japanese  Buddhism,  ai’e  of  Chinese  origin  and 
are  beautiful.  It  is  also  a costly  ceremony  ; and  the 
parents  of  Yokogi  are  very  poor.  But  all  the  ex- 
penses have  been  paid  by  voluntary  subscription  of 
students  and  teachers.  Priests  from  every  great 
temple  of  the  Zen  sect  in  Izumo  have  assembled  at 
Tokoji.  All  the  teachers  of  the  city  and  all  the  stu- 
dents have  entered  the  hondo  of  the  huge  temple, 
and  taken  their  places  to  the  right  and  to  the  left  of 


486  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


the  high  altar,  — kneeling  on  the  matted  floor,  and 
leaving,  on  the  long  broad  steps  without,  a thousand 
shoes  and  sandals. 

Before  the  main  entrance,  and  facing  the  high 
shrine,  a newbutsudan  has  been  placed,  within  whose 
open  doors  the  ihai  of  the  dead  boy  glimmers  in 
Ltcqner  and  gilding.  And  upon  a small  stand  before 
the  butsudan  have  been  placed  an  incense-vessel  with 
bundles  of  senko-rods  and  offerings  of  fruits,  con- 
fections, rice,  and  flowers.  Tall  and  beautiful  flower 
vases  on  each  side  of  the  butsudan  are  filled  with 
blossoming  sprays,  exquisitely  arranged.  Before  the 
honzon  tapers  burn  in  massive  candelabi’a  whose  stems 
of  polished  brass  are  writhing  monsters,  — the  Dragon 
Ascending  and  the  Dragon  Descending  ; and  incense 
curls  up  from  vessels  shaped  like  the  sacred  deer,  like 
the  symbolic  tortoise,  like  the  meditative  stork  of 
Buddhist  legend.  And  beyond  these,  in  the  twilight 
of  the  vast  alcove,  the  Buddha  smiles  the  smile  of 
Perfect  Rest. 

Between  the  butsudan  and  the  honzon  a little 
table  has  been  placed ; and  on  either  side  of  it  the 
priests  kneel  in  ranks,  facing  each  other : rows  of 
polished  heads,  and  splendors  of  vermilion  silks  and 
vestments  gold-embroidei’ed. 

The  great  bell  ceases  to  peal;  the  Segaki  prayer, 
which  is  the  prayer  uttered  when  offerings  of  food 
are  made  to  the  spirits  of  the  dead,  is  recited  ; and 
a sudden  sonorous  measured  tapping,  accompanied  by 
a plaintive  chant,  begins  the  musical  service.  The 
tapping  is  the  tapping  of  the  mokugyo,  — a huge 
wooden  fish-head,  lacquered  and  gilded,  like  the  head 
of  a dolphin  gi’otesquely  idealized,  — marking  the 
time ; and  the  chant  is  the  chant  of  the  Chapter 


FROM  THE  DIARY  OF  A TEACHER.  487 


of  Kwiinnon  in  tlie  Hokkekyo,  with  its  magnificent 
invocation  : — 

“ 0 Thou  whose  eyes  are  clear,  whose  eyes  are  hind, 
whose  eyes  are  full  of  pity  and  of  sweetness, — 0 Thou 
Lovely  One,  xoith  thy  beautiful  face,  with  thy  beauti- 
ful eyes,  — 

“ 0 Thou  Pure  One,  xchose  luminosity  is  without 
spot,  whose  knowledge  is  without  shadow,  — 0 Thou 
forever  shining  like  that  Sun  whose  glory  no  power 
may  repel,  — Thou  Suxi-like  in  the  course  of  Thy 
mercy,  pourest  Light  upon  the  world 

And  while  the  voices  of  the  leaders  chant  clear  and 
high  in  vibrant  unison,  the  multitude  of  the  priestly 
choir  recite  in  profoundest  undertone  the  mighty 
verses ; and  the  sound  of  their  recitation  is  like  the 
muttering  of  surf. 

The  mokugyo  ceases  its  dull  echoing,  the  impres- 
sive chant  ends,  and  the  leading  officiants,  one  by 
one,  high  priests  of  famed  temples,  approach  the  ihai. 
Each  bows  low,  ignites  an  incense-rod,  and  sets  it 
upright  in  the  little  vase  of  bronze.  Each  at  a time 
recites  a holy  verse  of  which  the  initial  sound  is  the 
sound  of  a letter  in  the  kaimyo  of  the  dead  boy ; and 
these  verses,  uttered  in  the  order  of  the  character’s 
upon  the  ihai,  form  the  sacred  Acrostic  whose  irame 
is  The  Words  of  Perfume. 

Then  the  priests  retire  to  their  places ; and  after  a 
little  silence  begins  the  reading  of  the  saibun,  — the 
reading  of  the  addresses  to  the  soul  of  the  dead.  The 
students  speak  first,  — one  from  each  class,  chosen  by 
election.  The  elected  rises,  aproaches  tlie  little  table 
before  the  high  altar,  bows  to  the  honzon,  draws 
from  his  bosom  a paper  and  reads  it  in  those  melodi- 

voL.  n. 


488  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


ous,  chanting,  and  plaintive  tones  which  belong  to 
the  reading  of  Chinese  texts.  So  each  one  tells  the 
affection  of  the  living  to  the  dead,  in  words  of  loving 
grief  and  loving  hope.  And  last  among  the  students 
a gentle  girl  rises  — a pupil  of  the  Normal  School  — 
to  speak  in  tones  soft  as  a bird’s.  As  each  saibun  is 
finished,  the  reader  lays  the  written  paper  upon  the 
table  before  the  honzon,  and  bows,  and  retires. 

It  is  now  the  turn  of  the  teachers ; and  an  old  man 
takes  his  place  at  the  little  table,  — old  Katayama, 
the  teacher  of  Chinese,  famed  as  a poet,  adored  as  an 
instructor.  And  because  the  students  all  love  him 
as  a father,  there  is  a strange  intensity  of  silence  as 
he  begins,  — KoShimane-Ken-Jinjo-Chagakko-yo-nen- 
sei. 

“ Here  upon  the  twenty-third  day  of  the  twelfth 
month  of  the  twenty-fourth  year  of  Meiji,  I,  Kata- 
yama Shokei,  teacher  of  the  Jinjo  Chugakko  of  Shi- 
mane  Ken,  attending  in  great  sorrow  the  holy  service 
of  the  dead  \tsui-fuku].,  do  speak  unto  the  soul  of 
Yokogi  Tomisaburo,  my  pupil. 

“ Having  been,  as  thou  knowest,  for  twice  five 
years,  at  different  periods,  a teacher  of  the  school,  I 
have  indeed  met  with  not  a few  most  excellent  stu- 
dents. But  very,  very  rarely  in  any  school  maj’^  the 
teacher  find  one  such  as  thou,  — so  patient  and  so 
earnest,  so  diligent  and  so  careful  in  all  things,  — so 
distinguished  among  thy  comrades  by  thy  blameless 
conduct,  observing  every  precept,  never  breaking  a 
rule. 

“ Of  old  in  the  land  of  Kihoku,  famed  for  its 
horses,  whenever  a horse  of  rarest  breed  could  not  be 
obtained,  men  were  wont  to  say  : ‘ There  is  no  horse.' 


FROM  THE  DIARY  OF  A TEACHER.  489 


Still  there  are  many  fine  lads  among  our  students,  — 
many  ryume,  fine  young  steeds;  but  we  have  lost  the 
best. 

“ To  die  at  the  age  of  seventeen,  — the  best  period 
of  life  for  study,  — even  when  of  the  Ten  Steps  thou 
hadst  already  ascended  six  ! Sad  is  the  thought ; but 
sadder  still  to  know  that  thy  last  illness  was  caused 
only  by  thine  own  tireless  zeal  of  study.  Even  yet 
more  sad  our  conviction  that  with  those  rare  gifts, 
and  with  that  rare  character  of  thine,  thou  wouldst 
surely,  in  that  career  to  which  thou  wast  destined, 
have  achieved  good  and  great  things,  honoring  the 
names  of  thine  ancestors,  couldst  thou  have  lived  to 
manhood. 

“ I see  thee  lifting  thy  hand  to  ask  some  question  ; 
then,  bending  above  thy  little  desk  to  make  note  of 
all  thy  poor  old  teacher  was  able  to  tell  thee.  Again 
I see  thee  in  the  ranks,  — thy  rifle  upon  thy  shoul- 
der,— so  bravely  erect  during  the  military  exercises. 
Even  now  thy  face  is  before  me,  with  its  smile,  as 
plainly  as  if  thou  wert  present  in  the  body ; — thy 
voice  I think  I hear  distinctly  as  though  thou  hadst 
but  this  instant  finished  speaking  ; — yet  I know 
that,  except  in  memory,  these  never  will  be  seen  and 
heard  again.  O Heaven,  why  didst  thou  take  away 
that  dawning  life  from  the  world,  and  leave  such  a 
one  as  I — old  Shokei,  feeble,  decrepit,  and  of  no 
more  use? 

“ To  thee  my  relation  was  indeed  only  that  of 
teacher  to  pupil.  Yet  what  is  my  distress ! I have  a 
son  of  twenty-four  years ; he  is  now  far  from  me, 
in  Yokohama.  I know  he  is  only  a worthless  youth  ; ^ 

1 Said  only  in  courteous  self-depreciation.  In  the  same  way  a son, 
writing  to  his  parent,  would  never  according  to  Japanese  ideas  of  true 


490  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


yet  never  for  so  much  as  the  space  of  one  hour  does 
tlie  thought  of  him  leave  his  old  father’s  heart. 
Then  how  must  the  father  and  mother,  the  brothers 
and  the  sisters  of  this  gentle  and  gifted  youth  feel 
now  that  he  is  gone  ! Only  to  think  of  it  forces  the 
tears  from  my  eyes:  1 cannot  speak  — so  full  my 
heart  is. 

'■'■Aa!  aa!  — thou  hast  gone  from  us;  thou  hast 
gone  from  us ! Yet  though  thou  hast  died,  thy 
earnestness,  thy  goodness,  will  long  he  honored  and 
told  of  as  examples  to  the  students  of  our  school. 

“ Here,  therefore,  do  we,  thy  teachers  and  thy 
schoolmates,  hold  this  service  in  behalf  of  thy  spirit, 
— with  prayer  and  offerings.  Deign  thou,  O gentle 
Soul,  to  honor  our  love  by  the  acceptance  of  our 
humble  gifts.” 

Then  a sound  of  sobbing  is  suddenly  whelmed  by 
the  resonant  booming  of  the  great  fish’s-head,  as  the 
high-pitched  voices  of  the  leaders  of  the  chant  begin 
the  grand  Nehan-gyo,  the  Sutra  of  Nirvana,  the 
song  of  passage  triumphant  over  the  Sea  of  Death 
and  Birth ; and  deep  below  those  high  tones  and 
the  hollow  echoing  of  the  mokugyo,  the  surging 
bass  of  a century  of  voices  reciting  the  sonorous  words, 
sounds  like  the  breaking  of  a sea : — 

^‘‘Sho-gyo  mu- jo.,  je-sho  meppd.  — Transient  are 
all.  They.,  being  born.,  must  die.  And  being  born., 
are  dead.  And  being  dead.,  are  glad  to  be  at  rest.'’’ 

courtesy  and  duty  sign  himself  “ Your  affectionate  son,"  but  “ Your 
ungrateful,  or  unloving  son.” 


XX 


TWO  STRANGE  FESTIVALS. 


I. 

The  outward  signs  of  any  Japanese  matsuri  are 
the  most  puzzling  of  enigmas  to  the  stranger  who 
sees  them  for  the  first  time.  They  are  many  and 
varied  ; they  are  quite  unlike  anything  in  the  way  of 
holiday  decoration  ever  seen  in  the  Occident ; they 
have  each  a meaning  founded  upon  some  T>elief  or 
some  tradition,  — a meaning  known  to  every  Japa- 
nese child ; but  that  meaning  is  utterly  impossible 
for  any  foreigner  to  guess.  Yet  whoever  wishes  to 
know  something  of  Japanese  popular  life  and  feeling 
must  learn  the  signification  of  at  least  the  most  com- 
mon among  festival  symbols  and  tokens.  Especially 
is  such  knowledge  necessary  to  the  student  of  Japa- 
nese art:  without  it,  not  only  the  delicate  humor  and 
charm  of  countless  designs  must  escape  him,  but  in 
many  instances  the  designs  themselves  must  remain 
incomprehensible  to  him.  For  hundreds  of  years  the 
emblems  of  festivity  have  been  utilized  by  the  Japa- 
nese in  graceful  decorative  ways  : they  figure  in  metal- 
work, on  porcelain,  on  the  red  or  black  lacquer  of  the 
humblest  household  utensils,  on  little  brass  pipes,  on 
the  clasps  of  tobacco-pouches.  It  may  even  be  said 
that  the  majority  of  common  decorative  design  is 
emblematical.  The  very  figures  of  which  the  mean- 
ing seems  most  obvious,  — those  matchless  studies  ^ 
^ As  it  has  become,  among  a certain  sect  of  Western  Philistines  and 


492  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


of  animal  or  vegetable  life  with  which  the  Western 
curio-buyer  is  most  familiar,  — have  usually  some 
ethical  signification  which  is  not  perceived  at  all. 
Or  take  the  commonest  design  dashed  with  a brush 
upon  the  fusuma  of  a cheap  hotel,  — a lobster,  — 
sprigs  of  pine,  — tortoises  waddling  in  a curl  of 
water,  — a pair  of  storks,  — a spray  of  bamboo.  It 
is  rarely  that  a foreign  tourist  thinks  of  asking  why 
such  designs  are  used  instead  of  others,  — even  when 
he  has  seen  them  repeated,  with  slight  variation,  at 
twenty  different  places  along  his  route.  They  have 
become  conventional  simply  because  they  are  em- 
blems of  which  the  sense  is  known  to  all  Japanese, 
however  ignorant,  but  is  never  even  remotely  sus- 
pected by  the  stranger. 

The  subject  is  one  about  which  a whole  encyclo- 
pedia might  be  written,  but  about  which  I know  very 
little,  — much  too  little  for  a special  essay.  But  I 
may  venture,  by  way  of  illustration,  to  speak  of  the 
curious  objects  exhibited  during  two  antique  festivals 
still  observed  in  all  parts  of  Japan. 

self-constituted  art  critics,  the  fashion  to  sneer  at  any  writer  who 
becomes  enthusiastic  about  the  truth  to  nature  of  Japanese  art,  I may 
cite  here  the  words  of  Enjrland’s  most  celebrated  living  naturalist  on 
this  very  subject.  Mr.  Wallace’s  authority  will  scarcely,  I presume, 
be  questioned,  even  by  the  Philistines  referred  to  : — 

“Dr.  Mohnike  possesses  a large  collection  of  colored  sketches  of 
the  plants  of  Japan  made  by  a Japanese  lady,  which  are  the  most  mas- 
terly things  I have  ever  seen.  Every  stem,  twig,  and  leaf  is  produced 
by  single  touches  of  the  brush,  the  character  and  perspective  of  very 
complicated  plants  being  admirably  given,  and  the  articulations  of 
stem  and  leaves  shown  in  a most  scientijic  manner.”  {Malay  Archi- 
pelago, chap.  XX.) 

Now  this  was  written  in  1857,  before  European  methods  of  drawing 
had  been  introduced.  The  same  art  of  painting  leaves,  etc.,  with 
single  strokes  of  the  brush  is  still  common  in  Japan,  — even  among 
the  poore.st  class  of  decorators. 


TWO  STRANGE  FESTIVALS. 


493 


II. 

The  first  is  the  Festival  of  the  New  Yeai‘,  which 
lasts  for  three  days.  In  jNIatsue  its  celebration  is 
particularly  interesting,  as  the  old  city  still  preserves 
many  raatsuri  customs  which  have  either  become, 
or  are  rapidly  becoming,  obsolete  elsewhere.  The 
streets  are  then  profusely  decorated,  and  all  shops 
are  closed.  Shimenawa  or  shimekazari,  — the  straw 
ropes  which  have  been  sacred  symbols  of  Shinto  from 
the  mythical  age,  — are  festooned  along  the  faQades 
of  the  dwellings,  and  so  interjoined  that  yon  see  to 
right  or  left  what  seems  but  a single  mile-long  shime- 
naw’a,  with  its  straw  pendents  and  white  fluttering 
paper  gohei,  extending  along  either  side  of  the  street 
as  far  as  the  eye  can  reach.  Japanese  flags  — bear- 
ing on  a white  ground  the  great  crimson  disk  which 
is  the  emblem  of  the  Land  of  the  Rising  Sun  — flut- 
ter above  the  gateways ; and  the  same  national  em- 
blem glows  upon  countless  paper  lanterns  strung  in 
rows  along  the  eaves  or  across  the  streets  and  temple 
avenues.  And  before  every  gate  or  doorway  a kado- 
matsu  (“gate  pine-tree  ”)  has  been  erected.  So  that 
all  the  ways  are  lined  with  green,  and  full  of  bright 
color. 

The  kadomatsu  is  more  than  its  name  implies. 
It  is  a young  pine,  or  part  of  a pine,  conjoined  with 
plum  branches  and  bamboo  cuttings.^  Pine,  plum, 

1 There  is  a Buddhist  saying  about  the  kadomatsu : — 

Kadomatsu 
Mi^ido  no  tahi  no 
Ichi-ri-zuka. 

The  meaning  is  that  each  kadomatsu  is  a milestone  on  the  journey  to 
the  Meido ; or,  in  other  words,  that  each  New  Year’s  festival  signals 
only  the  completion  of  another  stage  of  the  ceaseless  journey  to  death. 


494  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


and  bamboo  are  growths  of  emblematic  significance. 
Anciently  the  pine  alone  was  used ; but  from  the 
era  of  0-ei,  the  bamboo  was  added  ; and  within  more 
recent  times  the  plum-tree. 

The  pine  has  many  meanings.  But  the  fortunate 
one  most  generally  accepted  is  that  of  endurance  and 
successful  energy  in  time  of  misfortune.  As  the  pine 
keeps  its  green  leaves  when  other  trees  lose  their 
foliage,  so  the  true  man  keeps  his  courage  and  his 
strength  in  adversity.  The  pine  is  also,  as  I have 
said  elsewhere,  a symbol  of  vigorous  old  age. 

No  European  could  possibly  guess  the  riddle  of 
the  bamboo.  It  represents  a sort  of  pun  in  sym- 
bolism. There  are  two  Chinese  characters  both  pro- 
nounced setsM,  — one  signifying  the  node  or  joint  of 
the  bamboo,  and  the  other  virtue,  fidelity,  constancy. 
Therefore  is  the  bamboo  used  as  a felicitous  sign. 
The  name  “Setsu,”  be  it  observed,  is  often  given 
to  Japanese  maidens,  — just  as  the  names  “Faith,” 
“Fidelia,”  and  “Constance”  are  given  to  English 
girls. 

The  plum-tree  — of  whose  emblematic  meaning  I 
said  something  in  a former  paper  about  Japanese 
gardens  — is  not  invariably  used,  however ; some- 
times sakaki,  the  sacred  plant  of  Shinto,  is  substi- 
tuted for  it ; and  sometimes  only  pine  and  bamboo 
form  the  kadomatsu. 

Every  decoration  used  upon  the  New  Year’s  festi- 
val has  a meaning  of  a curious  and  unfamiliar  kind  ; 
and  the  very  commonest  of  all — the  straw  rope  — 
possesses  the  most  complicated  symbolism.  In  the 
first  place  it  is  scarcely  necessary  to  explain  that  its 
origin  belongs  to  that  most  ancient  legend  of  the 
Sun-Goddess  being  tempted  to  issue  from  the  cavern 


TWO  STRANGE  FESTIVALS. 


495 


into  which  she  had  retired,  and  being  prevented  from 
returning  thereunto  by  a deity  who  stretched  a rope 
of  straw  across  the  entrance,  — all  of  which  is  writ- 
ten in  the  Kojiki.  Next  observe  that,  although 
tlie  shiinenavva  may  be  of  any  thickness,  it  must 
be  twisted  so  that  the  direction  of  the  twist  is  to  the 
left ; for  in  ancient  Japanese  philosophy  the  left 
is  the  “pure”  or  fortunate  side:  owing  perhaps  to 
the  old  belief,  common  among  the  uneducated  of 
Europe  to  this  day,  that  the  heart  lies  to  the  left. 
Thirdly,  note  that  the  pendent  straws,  which  hang 
down  from  the  rope  at  regular  intervals,  in  tufts,  like 
fringing,  must  be  of  different  numbers  according  to 
the  place  of  the  tufts,  beginning  with  the  number 
three  : so  that  the  first  tuft  has  three  straws,  the 
second  five,  the  third  seven,  the  fourth  again  three, 
the  fifth  five,  and  the  sixth  seven,  — and  so  on,  the 
whole  length  of  the  rope.  The  origin  of  the  pendent 
paper  cuttings  (gohei'),  which  alternate  with  the  straw 
tnfts,  is  likewise  to  be  sought  in  the  legend  of  the 
Sun-Goddess  ; but  the  gohei  also  represent  offerings 
of  cloth  anciently  made  to  the  gods  according  to  a 
custom  long  obsolete. 

But  besides  the  gohei,  there  are  many  other  things 
attached  to  the  shimenawa  of  which  you  could  not 
imagine  the  signification.  Among  these  are  fern- 
leaves,  bitter  oranges,  yuzuri-leaves,  and  little  bundles 
of  charcoal. 

Why  fern-leaves  (^moromoTci  or  urajiro')  ? Because 
the  fern-leaf  is  the  symbol  of  the  hope  of  exuberant 
posterity : even  as  it  branches  and  rebranches  so 
may  the  happy  family  increase  and  multiply  through 
the  generations. 

Why  bitter  oranges  (^daidai)  ? Because  there  is 


496  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


a Chinese  word  daidai  signifying  “ from  generation 
unto  generation.”  Wherefore  the  fruit  called  daidai 
has  become  a fruit  of  good  omen. 

But  why  charcoal  (^sumi)  ? It  signifies  “ prosper- 
ous changelesmess."  Here  the  idea  is  decidedly 
curious.  Even  as  the  color  of  charcoal  cannot  be 
changed,  so  may  the  fortunes  of  those  we  love  remain 
forever  unchanged  in  all  that  gives  happiness ! The 
signification  of  the  yuzuri-leaf  I explained  in  a former 
paper. 

Besides  the  great  shimenawa  in  front  of  the  house, 
shimenawa  or  shimekazari  ^ are  suspended  above  the 
toko,  or  alcoves,  in  each  apartment ; and  over  the 
back  gate,  or  over  the  entrance  to  the  gallery  of  the 
second  story  (if  there  be  a second  story),  is  hung  a 
wajitne,  which  is  a very  small  shimekazari  twisted 
into  a sort  of  wreath,  and  decorated  with  fern-leaves, 
gohei,  and  yuzuri-leaves. 

But  the  great  domestic  display  of  the  festival  is  the 
decoration  of  the  kamidana,  — the  shelf  of  the  Gods. 
Before  the  household  miya  are  placed  great  double 
rice  cakes  ; and  the  shrine  is  beautified  with  flowers, 
a tiny  shimekazari,  and  sprays  of  sakaki.  There  also 
are  placed  a string  of  cash ; kabu  (turnips);  daikon 
(radishes)  ; a tai-fish,  which  is  the  “ king  of  fishes,” 
dried  slices  of  salt  cuttlefish;  jinbaso,  or  “the  Sea- 
weed of  the  Horse  of  the  God ; ” ^ — also  the  seaweed 
kombu,  which  is  a symbol  of  pleasure  and  of  joy, 
because  its  name  is  deemed  to  be  a homonym  for 

' The  (lifFereuce  between  the  shimenawa  and  shimekazari  is  that 
the  latter  is  a strictly  decorative  straw  rope,  to  which  many  curious 
emblems  are  attached. 

* It  belongs  to  the  sargassum  family,  and  is  full  of  air  sacs.  Vari- 
ous kinds  of  edible  seaweed  form  a considerable  proportion  of  Japa- 
nese diet. 


TWO  STRANGE  FESTIVALS. 


497 


gladness ; and  mochibana,  artificial  blossoms  formed 
of  rice  flour  and  straw. 

The  sambo  is  a curiously  shaped  little  table  on 
wbicb  offerings  are  made  to  the  Shinto  gods ; and 
almost  every  well-to-do  household  in  Izuiuo  has  its 
own  sambo ; — such  a family  sambo  being  smaller, 
however,  than  sambo  used  in  the  temples.  At  the 
advent  of  the  New  Year's  Festival,  bitter  oranges, 
rice,  and  rice-flour  cakes,  native  sardines  (iwashi)., 
chikara-iwai  (“  strength  - rice  - bread  ”),  black  peas, 
dried  chestnuts,  and  a fine  lobster,  are  all  tastefully 
arranged  upon  the  family  sambo.  Before  each  vis- 
itor the  sambo  is  set ; and  the  visitor,  by  saluting  it 
with  a prostration,  expresses  not  only  his  heartfelt 
wish  that  all  the  good-fortune  symbolized  by  the  ob- 
jects upon  the  sambo  may  come  to  the  family,  but 
also  his  reverence  for  the  household  gods.  The  black 
peas  (mame)  signify  bodily  strength  and  health,  be- 
cause a word  similarly  pronounced,  though  written 
with  a different  ideograph,  means  “ robust.”  But 
why  a lobster?  Here  we  have  another  curious  con- 
ception. The  lobstei’’s  body  is  bent  double : the  body 
of  the  man  who  lives  to  a very  great  old  age  is  also 
bent.  Thus  the  lobster  stands  for  a symbol  of  ex- 
treme old  age  ; and  in  artistic  design  signifies  the 
wish  that  our  friends  may  live  so  long  that  they 
will  become  bent  like  lobsters,  — under  the  weight 
of  years.  And  the  dried  chestnuts  (Jcachiguri)  are 
emblems  of  success,  because  the  first  character  of 
their  name  in  Japanese  is  the  homonym  of  kachi, 
which  means  “ victory,”  “ conquest.” 

There  are  at  least  a hundred  other  singular  customs 
and  emblems  belonging  to  the  New  Year’s  Festival 
which  would  require  a large  volume  to  describe.  I 


498  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


have  mentioned  only  a few  which  immediately  appeal 
to  even  casual  observation. 


m. 

The  other  festival  I wish  to  refer  to  is  that  of  the 
Setsubun,  which,  according  the  ancient  Japanese  cal- 
endar, corresponded  with  the  beginning  of  the  natu- 
ral year,  — the  period  when  winter  first  softens  into 
spring.  It  is  what  we  might  term,  according  to 
Professor  Chamberlain,  “ a sort  of  movable  feast ; ” 
and  it  is  chiefly  famous  for  the  curious  ceremony  of 
the  casting  out  of  devils,  — Oni-yarai.  On  the  eve 
of  the  Setsubun,  a little  after  dark,  the  Yaku-otoshi, 
or  caster-out  of  devils,  wanders  through  the  streets 
from  house  to  house,  rattling  his  shakujo,^  and  utter- 
ing his  strange  professional  cry:  Oni  wa  soto  ! — 

fukuwaucJii!"  [Devils  out!  Good-fortune  in!] 
For  a trifling  fee  he  performs  his  little  exorcism  in 
any  house  to  which  he  is  called.  This  simply  con- 
sists in  the  recitation  of  certain  parts  of  a Buddhist 
kyo,  or  sutra,  and  the  rattling  of  the  shakujo.  After- 
wards dried  peas  (^shiro-mame')  are  thrown  about  the 
house  in  four  directions.  For  some  mysterious  rea- 
son, devils  do  not  like  dried  peas  — and  flee  there- 
from. The  peas  thus  scattered  are  afterward  swept 
up  and  carefully  preserved  until  the  first  clap  of 
spring  thunder  is  heard,  when  it  is  the  custom  to 
cook  and  eat  some  of  them.  But  just  why,  I cannot 

1 This  is  a curiously  shaped  staff  with  which  the  divinity  .Tizo  is 
commonly  represented.  It  is  still  carried  by  Buddhist  mendicants, 
and  there  are  several  sizes  of  it.  That  carried  by  the  Yakn-otoshi  is 
usually  very  short.  There  is  a tradition  that  the  shakujo  was  first  in- 
vented as  a means  of  giving  warning  to  insects  or  other  little  creatures 
in  the  path  of  the  Buddhist  pilgrim,  so  that  they  might  not  be  trodden, 
upon  unawares. 


TWO  STRANGE  FESTIVALS. 


499 


find  out ; neither  can  I discover  the  origin  of  the 
dislike  of  devils  for  di’ied  peas.  On  the  subject  of 
this  dislike,  however,  I confess  my  sympathy  with 
devils. 

After  the  devils  have  been  properly  cast  out,  a 
small  charm  is  placed  above  all  the  entrances  of  the 
dwelling  to  keep  them  from  coming  back  again. 
This  consists  of  a little  stick  about  the  length  and 
thickness  of  a skewer,  a single  holly-leaf,  and  the 
head  of  a dried  iwashi,  — a fish  resembling  a sardine. 
The  stick  is  stuck  through  the  middle  of  the  holly- 
leaf  ; and  the  fish’s  head  is  fastened  into  a split  made 
in  one  end  of  the  stick ; the  other  end  being  slipped 
into  some  joint  of  the  timber -work  immediately 
above  a door.  But  why  the  devils  are  afraid  of  the 
holly-leaf  and  the  fish’s  head,  nobody  seems  to  know. 
Among  the  people  the  origin  of  all  these  curious  cus- 
toms appears  to  be  quite  forgotten  ; and  the  families 
of  the  upper  classes  who  still  maintain  such  customs 
believe  in  the  superstitions  relating  to  the  festival 
just  as  little  as  Englishmen  to-day  believe  in  the 
magical  virtues  of  mistletoe  or  ivy. 

This  ancient  and  mei’ry  annual  custom  of  casting 
out  devils  has  been  for  generations  a source  of  in- 
spiration to  Japanese  artists.  It  is  only  after  a fair 
acquaintance  with  popular  customs  and  ideas  that 
the  foreigner  can  learn  to  appreciate  the  delicious 
humor  of  many  art-creations  which  he  may  wish, 
indeed,  to  buy  just  because  they  are  so  oddly  attrac- 
tive in  themselves,  but  which  must  really  remain 
enigmas  to  him,  so  far  as  their  inner  meaning  is  con- 
cerned, unless  he  knows  Japanese  life.  The  other 
day  a friend  gave  me  a little  card-case  of  perfumed 
leather.  On  one  side  was  stamped  in  relief  the  face 


500  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


of  a devil,  through  the  orifice  of  whose  yawning 
mouth  could  be  seen,  — painted  upon  the  silk  lining 
of  the  interior,  — the  laughing,  chubby  face  of  Ota- 
fuku,  joyful  Goddess  of  Good  Luck.  In  itself  the 
thing  was  very  curious  and  pretty;  but  the  real 
merit  of  its  design  was  this  comical  symbolism  of 
good  wishes  for  the  New  Year:  “ Oni  wa  soto ! — 
fuku  wa  uchi ! ” 

IV, 

Since  I have  spoken  of  the  custom  of  eating  some 
of  the  Setsubun  peas  at  the  time  of  the  first  spring 
thunder’,  I may  here  take  the  opportunity  to  say  a 
few  words  about  superstitions  in  regard  to  thunder 
which  have  not  yet  ceased  to  prevail  among  the  peas- 
antry. 

When  a thunder-storm  comes,  the  big  brown  mos- 
quito curtains  are  suspended,  and  the  women  and 
children  — perhaps  the  whole  family  — squat  down 
under  the  curtains  till  the  storm  is  over.  From  an- 
cient days  it  has  been  believed  that  lightning  cannot 
kill  anybody  under  a mosquito  curtain.  The  Raiju, 
or  Thunder-Animal,  cannot  pass  through  a mosquito- 
curtain.  Only  the  other  day,  an  old  peasant  who 
came  to  the  house  with  vegetables  to  sell  told  us 
that  he  and  his  whole  family,  while  crouching  under 
their  mosquito-netting  during  a thunder-storm,  actu- 
ally saw  the  Lightning  rushing  up  and  down  the 
pillar  of  the  balcony  opposite  their  apartment,  — 
furiously  clawing  the  woodwork,  but  unable  to  enter 
because  of  the  mosquito-netting.  His  house  had  been 
badly  damaged  by  a flash ; but  he  supposed  the 
mischief  to  have  been  accomplished  by  the  Claws  of 
the  Thunder-Animal. 

The  Thunder-Animal  springs  from  tree  to  tree 


TWO  STRANGE  FESTIVALS. 


501 


during  a storm,  they  say ; wherefore  to  stand  under 
trees  in  time  of  thunder  and  lightning  is  very  dan- 
gerous: the  Thunder-Animal  might  step  on  one’s 
head  or  shoulders.  The  Thunder- Animal  is  also 
alleged  to  be  fond  of  eating  the  human  navel ; for 
which  reason  people  should  be  cai’eful  to  keep  their 
navels  well  covered  during  storms,  and  to  lie  down 
upon  their  stomachs  if  possible.  Incense  is  always 
burned  during  storms,  because  the  Thunder-Animal 
hates  the  smell  of  incense.  A tree  stricken  by  light- 
ning is  thought  to  have  been  torn  and  scarred  by  the 
claws  of  the  Thunder-Animal ; and  fragments  of  its 
bark  and  wood  are  carefully  collected  and  preserved 
by  dwellers  in  the  vicinity  ; for  the  wood  of  a blasted 
tree  is  alleged  to  have  the  singular  virtue  of  curing 
toothache. 

There  are  many  stoi'ies  of  the  Raiju  having  been 
caught  and  caged.  Once,  it  is  said,  the  Thunder- 
Animal  fell  into  a well,  and  got  entangled  in  the 
ropes  and  buckets,  and  so  was  captured  alive.  And 
old  Izumo  folk  say  they  remember  that  the  Thunder- 
Animal  was  once  exhibited  in  the  court  of  the  Tem- 
ple of  Tenjin  in  Matsue,  inclosed  in  a cage  of  brass; 
and  that  people  paid  one  sen  each  to  look  at  it.  It 
resembled  a badger.  When  the  weather  was  clear  it 
would  sleep  contentedly  in  its  cage.  But  when  there 
was  thunder  in  the  air,  it  would  become  excited,  and 
seem  to  obtain  great  strength,  and  its  eyes  would 
flash  dazzlingly. 

V. 

There  is  one  very  evil  spirit,  however,  who  is  not 
in  the  least  afraid  of  dried  peas,  and  who  cannot  be 
so  easily  got  rid  of  as  the  common  devils ; and  that 
is  Bimbogami. 


502  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


But  in  Izumo  people  know  a certain  household 
charm  whereby  Bimbogami  may  sometimes  be  cast 
out. 

Before  any  cooking  is  done  in  a Japanese  kitchen, 
the  little  charcoal  lire  is  first  blown  to  a bright  red 
lieat  with  that  most  useful  and  simple  household 
utensil  called  a hifukidake.  The  hifukidake  (“  fire- 
blow-bamboo  ”)  is  a bamboo  tube  usually  about  three 
feet  long  and  about  two  inches  in  diameter.  At  one 
end  — the  end  which  is  to  be  turned  toward  the  fire 
— only  a very  small  orifice  is  left ; the  woman  who 
prepares  the  meal  places  the  other  end  to  her  lips, 
and  blows  through  the  tube  upon  the  kindled  char- 
coal. Thus  a quick  fire  may  be  obtained  in  a few 
minutes. 

In  course  of  time  the  hifukidake  becomes  scorched 
and  cracked  and  useless.  A new  “ fire-blow-tube  ” is 
then  made ; and  the  old  one  is  used  as  a charm 
against  Bimbogami.  One  little  copper  coin  (rin)  is 
put  into  it,  some  magical  formula  is  uttered,  and 
then  the  old  utensil,  with  the  rin  inside  of  it,  is 
either  simply  thrown  out  through  the  front  gate 
into  the  street,  or  else  flung  into  some  neighboring 
stream.  This  — I know  not  why  — is  deemed  equiv- 
alent to  pitching  Bimbogami  out  of  doors,  and  ren- 
dering it  impossible  for  him  to  return  during  a 
considerable  period. 

It  may  be  asked  how  is  the  invisible  presence  of 
Bimbogami  to  be  detected. 

The  little  insect  which  makes  that  weird  ticking 
noise  at  night  called  in  England  the  Death-watch 
has  a Japanese  relative  named  by  the  people  Bimbo- 
mushi,  or  the  “ Poverty-Insect.”  It  is  said  to  be  the 


TWO  STRANGE  FESTIVALS. 


503 


servant  of  Bimbogami,  the  God  of  Poverty ; and  its 
ticking  in  a bouse  is  believed  to  signal  the  presence 
of  that  most  unwelcome  deity. 


VI. 

One  more  feature  of  the  Setsubun  festival  is  worthy 
of  mention,  — the  sale  of  the  hitogata  (“  people- 
shapes  ”).  These  are  little  figures,  made  of  white 
paper,  representing  rnen,  women,  and  children.  They 
are  cut  out  with  a few  clever  scissors  strokes ; and 
the  diffei’ence  of  sex  is  indicated  by  variations  in  the 
shape  of  the  sleeves  and  the  little  paper  obi.  They 
are  sold  in  the  Shinto  temples.  The  purchaser  buys 
one  for  everj'  member  of  the  family,  — the  priest 
writing  upon  each  the  age  and  sex  of  the  person  for 
whom  it  is  intended.  These  hitogata  are  then  taken 
home  and  distributed ; and  each  person  slightly  rubs 
his  body  or  her  body  with  the  paper,  and  says  a 
little  Shint5  prayer.  Next  day  the  hitogata  are 
returned  to  the  kannushi,  who,  after  having  recited 
certain  formulae  over  them,  burns  them  with  holy 
fire.^  By  this  ceremony  it  is  hoped  that  all  physical 
misfortunes  will  be  averted  from  the  family  during 
a year. 

1 I may  make  mention  here  of  another  matter,  in  no  way  relating 
to  the  Setsubun. 

There  lingers  in  Iznmo  a wholesome  — and  I doubt  not  formerly  a 
most  valuable  — superstition  about  the  sacredness  of  writing.  Paper 
upon  which  anything  has  been  written,  or  even  printed,  must  not  be 
crumpled  up,  or  trodden  upon,  or  dirtied,  or  put  to  any  base  use.  If 
it  be  necessary  to  destroy  a document,  the  paper  should  be  burned. 
I have  been  gently  reproached  in  a little  hotel  at  which  I stopped  for 
tearing  up  and  crumpling  some  paper  covered  with  my  own  writing. 


VOL.  n. 


XXI 


BY  THE  JAPANESE  SEA. 


I. 

It  is  the  fifteenth  day  of  the  seventh  month, — 
and  I am  in  Hoki. 

The  blanched  road  winds  along  a coast  of  low 
cliffs,  — the  coast  of  the  Japanese  Sea.  Always  on 
the  left,  over  a narrow  strip  of  stony  land,  or  a heap- 
ing of  dunes,  its  vast  expanse  appears,  blue-wrinkling 
to  that  pale  horizon  beyond  which  Korea  lies,  under 
the  same  white  sun.  Sometimes,  through  sudden 
gaps  in  the  cliff’s  verge,  there  flashes  to  us  the  run- 
ning of  the  surf.  Always  upon  the  right  another 
sea,  — a silent  sea  of  green,  reaching  to  far  misty 
ranges  of  wooded  hills,  with  huge  pale  peaks  behind 
them,  — a vast  level  of  rice-fields,  over  whose  surface 
soundless  waves  keep  chasing  each  other  under  the 
same  great  breath  that  moves  the  blue  to-day  from 
Chosen  to  Japan. 

Though  during  a week  the  sky  has  remained  un- 
clouded, the  sea  has  for  several  days  been  growing 
angrier ; and  now  the  muttering  of  its  surf  sounds 
far  into  the  land.  They  say  that  it  always  roughens 
thus  during  the  period  of  the  Festival  of  the  Dead, — 
the  three  days  of  the  Bon,  which  are  the  thirteenth, 
fourteenth,  and  fifteenth  of  the  seventh  month  by  the 
ancient  calendar.  And  on  the  sixteenth  day,  after 
the  shoryobune,  which  are  the  Ships  of  Souls,  have 
been  launched,  no  one  dares  to  enter  it : no  boats  can 


BY  THE  JAPANESE  SEA. 


505 


then  be  hired ; all  the  fishermen  remain  at  home. 
For  on  that  day  the  sea  is  the  highway  of  the  dead, 
who  must  pass  back  over  its  waters  to  their  m}’ste- 
rious  home  ; and  therefore  upon  that  day  is  it  called 
Hotoke-iimi,  — the  Buddha-Flood,  — the  Tide  of  the 
Returning  Ghosts.  And  ever  upon  the  night  of  that 
sixteenth  day,  — whether  the  sea  be  calm  or  tumult- 
uous,— all  its  surface  shimmers  with  faint  lights 
gliding  out  to  the  open,  — the  dim  fires  of  the  dead; 
and  there  is  heard  a murmuring  of  voices,  like  the 
murmur  of  a city  far-off,  — the  indistinguishable 
speech  of  souls. 


II. 

But  it  may  happen  that  some  vessel,  belated  in 
spite  of  desperate  effort  to  reach  port,  may  find  her- 
self far  out  at  sea  upon  the  night  of  the  sixteenth 
day.  Then  will  the  dead  rise  tall  about  the  ship,  and 
reach  long  hands  and  murmur : “ Togo.,  tago  o-kure  ! 

— tago  o-kure  ! ” ^ Never  may  they  be  refused  ; but, 
before  the  bucket  is  given,  the  bottom  of  it  must  be 
knocked  out.  Woe  to  all  on  board  should  an  entire 
tago  be  suffered  to  fall  even  by  accident  into  the  sea ! 

— for  the  dead  would  at  once  use  it  to  fill  and  sink 
the  ship. 

Nor  are  the  dead  the  only  powers  invisible  dreaded 
in  the  time  of  the  Hotoke-umi.  Then  are  the  Ma 
most  powerful,  and  the  Kappa.^ 

1 “A  bucket  honorably  condescend  [to  give].” 

2 The  Kappa  is  not  properly  a sea  goblin,  but  a river  goblin,  and 
haunts  ihe  sea  only  in  the  neighborhood  of  river  mouths. 

About  a mile  and  a half  from  Matsue,  at  the  little  village  of 
Kawachi-mura,  on  the  river  called  Kawachi,  stands  a little  temple 
called  Kawako-no-miya,  or  the  Miya  of  the  Kappa.  (In  Izumo, 
among  the  common  people,  the  word  “ Kappa  ” is  not  used,  but  the 


506  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


But  in  all  times  the  swimmer  fears  the  Kappa, 
the  Ape  of  Waters,  hideous  and  obscene,  who  reaches 
up  from  the  deeps  to  draw  men  down,  and  to  devour 
their  entrails. 

Only  their  entrails. 

The  corpse  of  him  who  has  been  seized  by  the 
Kappa  may  be  cast  on  shore  after  many  days.  Un- 
less long  battered  against  the  rocks  by  heavy  surf,  or 
nibbled  by  fishes,  it  will  show  no  outward  wound. 
But  it  will  be  light  and  hollow  — empty  like  a long- 
dried  gourd. 

III. 

Betimes,  as  we  journey  on,  the  monotony  of  undu- 
lating blue  on  the  left,  or  the  monotony  of  billowing 
green  upon  the  right,  is  broken  by  the  gray  appari- 
tion of  a cemetery,  — a cemetery  so  long  that  our 
jinrikisha  men,  at  full  run,  take  a full  quarter  of  an 

term  Kawako,  or  “The  Child  of  the  River.”)  In  this  little  shrine  is 
preserved  a document  said  to  have  been  signed  by  a Kappa.  The 
story  goes  that  in  ancient  times,  the  Kappa  dwelling  in  the  Kawachi 
used  to  seize  and  destroy  many  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  village  and 
many  domestic  animals.  One  day,  however,  while  trying  to  seize  a 
horse  that  had  entered  the  river  to  drink,  the  Kappa  got  its  head 
twisted  in  some  way  under  the  belly-band  of  the  horse,  and  the  terri- 
fied animal,  rushing  out  of  the  water,  dragged  the  Kappa  into  a field. 
There  the  owner  of  the  horse  and  a nnmber  of  peasants  seized  and 
bound  the  Kappa.  All  the  villagers  gathered  to  see  the  monster, 
which  bowed  its  head  to  the  ground,  and  audibly  begged  for  mercv. 
The  peasants  desired  to  kill  the  goblin  at  once  ; but  the  owner  of  the 
horse,  who  happened  to  be  the  head  man  of  the  mura,  said  : “ It  is 
better  to  make  it  swear  never  again  to  touch  any  person  or  animal 
belonging  to  Kawachi-mura.”  A written  form  of  oath  was  prepared 
and  read  to  the  Kappa.  It  said  that  It  could  not  write,  but  that  It 
would  sign  the  paper  by  dipping  Its  hand  in  ink,  and  pressing  the 
imprint  thereof  at  the  bottom  of  the  document.  This  having  been 
agreed  to  and  done,  the  Kappa  was  set  free.  From  that  time  for- 
ward no  inhabitant  or  animal  of  Kawachi-mura  was  ever  assaulted 
by  the  goblin. 


BY  THE  JAPANESE  SEA. 


507 


hour  to  pass  the  huge  congregation  of  its  perpendicu- 
lar stones.  Such  visions  always  indicate  the  approach 
of  villages  ; but  the  villages  prove  to  be  as  surpris- 
ingly small  as  the  cemeteries  are  surprisingly  large. 
By  hundreds  of  thousands  do  the  silent  populations 
of  the  hakaba  outnumber  the  folk  of  the  hamlets 
to  which  they  belong,  — tiny  thatched  settlements 
sprinkled  along  the  leagues  of  coast,  and  sheltered 
from  the  wind  only  by  ranks  of  sombre  pines.  Le- 
gions on  legions  of  stones,  — a host  of  sinister  wit- 
nesses of  tlie  cost  of  the  present  to  the  past,  — and 
old,  old,  old  ! — hundreds  so  long  in  place  that  they 
have  been  worn  into  shapelessness  merely  by  the 
blowing  of  sand  from  the  dunes,  and  their  inscrip- 
tions utterly  effaced.  It  is  as  if  one  were  passing 
through  the  burial-ground  of  all  who  ever  lived  on 
this  wind-blown  shore  since  the  being  of  the  land. 

And  in  all  these  hakaba  — for  it  is  the  Bon  — 
there  are  new  lanterns  before  the  newer  tombs, — the 
white  lanterns  which  are  the  lanterns  of  graves.  To- 
night the  cemeteries  will  be  all  aglow  with  lights  like 
the  fires  of  a city  for  multitude.  But  there  are  also 
unnumbered  tond)s  before  which  no  lanterns  are,  — 
elder  myriads,  each  the  token  of  a family  extinct,  or 
of  which  the  absent  descendants  have  forgotten  even 
the  name.  Dim  generations  whose  ghosts  have  none 
to  call  them  back,  no  local  memories  to  love  — so 
long  ago  obliterated  were  all  things  related  to  their 
lives. 

IV. 

Now  many  of  these  villages  are  only  fishing  settle- 
ments, and  in  them  stand  old  thatched  homes  of  men 
who  sailed  away  on  .some  eve  of  tempest,  and  never 
came  back.  Yet  each  drowned  sailor  has  his  tomb  in 


508  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


the  neighboring  hakaba,  and  beneath  it  something  of 
him  has  been  buried. 

What? 

Among  these  people  of  the  west  something  is 
always  preserved  which  in  other  lands  is  cast  away 
without  a thought,  — the  hozo-no-o,  the  flower-stalk 
of  a life,  the  navel-string  of  the  newly  born.  It  is 
enwrapped  carefully  in  many  wrappings ; and  upon 
its  outermost  covering  are  written  the  names  of  the 
father,  the  mother,  and  the  infant,  together  with 
the  date  and  hour  of  birth,  — and  it  is  kept  in  the 
family  o-mamori-bukuro.  The  daughter,  becoming 
a bride,  bears  it  with  her  to  her  new  home : for  the 
son  it  is  preserved  by  his  parents.  It  is  buried  with 
the  dead ; and  should  one  die  in  a foreign  land,  or 
perish  at  sea,  it  is  entombed  in  lieu  of  the  body. 


V. 

Concerning  them  that  go  down  into  the  sea  in 
ships,  and  stay  there,  strange  beliefs  prevail  on  this 
far  coast,  — beliefs  more  primitive,  assuredly,  than 
the  gentle  faith  which  hangs  white  lanterns  before 
the  tombs.  Some  hold  that  the  drowned  never  jour- 
ney to  the  Meido.  They  quiver  forever  in  the  cur- 
rents ; they  billow  in  the  swaying  of  tides ; they 
toil  in  the  wake  of  the  junks;  they  shout  in  the 
plunging  of  breakers.  ’T  is  their  white  hands  that 
toss  in  the  leap  of  the  surf ; their  clutch  that  clat- 
ters the  shingle,  or  seizes  the  swimmer’s  feet  in  the 
pull  of  the  undertow.  And  the  seamen  speak  euphe- 
mistically of  the  0-bak^,  the  honorable  ghosts,  and 
fear  them  with  a great  fear. 

Wherefore  cats  are  kept  on  board ! 

A cat,  they  aver,  has  power  to  keep  the  0-bake 


BY  THE  JAPANESE  SEA. 


509 


away.  How  or  why,  I have  not  yet  found  any  to 
tell  me.  I know  only  that  cats  are  deemed  to  have 
power  over  the  dead.  If  a cat  be  left  alone  with  a 
corpse,  will  not  the  corpse  arise  and  dance  ? And  of 
all  cats  a miko-neko,  or  cat  of  three  colors,  is  most 
prized  on  this  account  by  sailors.  But  if  they  cannot 
obtain  one,  — and  cats  of  three  colors  are  rare,  — 
they  will  take  another  kind  of  cat ; and  nearly  every 
trading  junk  has  a cat;  and  when  the  junk  comes 
into  port,  its  cat  may  generally  be  seen,  — peeping 
through  some  little  window  in  the  vessel’s  side,  or 
squatting  in  the  opening  where  the  great  rudder 
works,  — that  is,  if  the  weather  be  fair  and  the  sea 
still. 

VI. 

But  these  primitive  and  ghastly  beliefs  do  not 
affect  the  beautiful  practices  of  Buddhist  faith  in  the 
time  of  the  Bon ; and  from  all  these  little  villages 
the  shoryobune  are  launched  upon  the  sixteenth  day. 
They  are  much  more  elaborately  and  expensively 
constructed  on  this  coast  than  in  some  other  parts  of 
Japan ; for  though  made  of  straw  only,  woven  over 
a skeleton  framework,  they  are  charming  models  of 
junks,  complete  in  every  detail.  Some  are  between 
three  and  four  feet  long.  On  the  white  paper  sail  is 
written  the  kaimyo  or  soul-name  of  the  dead.  There 
is  a small  water-vessel  on  board,  filled  with  fresh 
water,  and  an  incense-cup ; and  along  the  gunwales 
flutter  little  paper  banners  bearing  the  mystic  manji, 
which  is  the  Sanscrit  svastika.^ 

The  form  of  the  shoryobune  and  the  customs  in 
regard  to  the  time  and  manner  of  launching  them 
differ  much  in  different  provinces.  In  most  places 
^ The  Buddhist  symbol 


510  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


they  are  launched  for  the  family  dead  in  general, 
wherever  buried ; and  they  are  in  some  places 
launched  only  at  night,  with  small  lanterns  on  board. 
And  I am  told  also  that  it  is  the  custom  at  certain 
sea-villages  to  launch  the  lanterns  all  by  themselves, 
in  lieu  of  the  shor}  bbune  proper,  — lanterns  of  a 
particular  kind  being  manufactured  for  that  purpose 
only. 

But  on  the  Izumo  coast,  and  elsewhere  along  this 
western  shore,  the  soul-boats  are  launched  only  for 
those  who  have  been  drowned  at  sea,  and  the  launch- 
ing takes  place  in  the  morning  instead  of  at  night. 
Once  every  year,  for  ten  years  after  death,  a shoryo- 
bune  is  launched ; in  the  eleventh  year  the  cere- 
mony ceases.  Several  shorybbune  which  I saw  at 
Inasa  were  really  beautiful,  and  must  have  cost  a 
rather  large  sum  for  poor  fisher-folk  to  pay.  But  the 
ship-carpenter  who  made  them  said  that  all  the  rela- 
tives of  a drpwned  man  contribute  to  purchase  the 
little  vessel,  year  after  year. 

VII. 

Near  a sleepy  little  village  called  Kami-ichi  I 
make  a brief  halt  in  order  to  visit  a famous  sacred 
tree.  It  is  in  a grove  close  to  the  public  highway, 
but  upon  a low  hill.  Entering  the  grove  I find  my- 
self in  a soi't  of  miniature  glen  surrounded  on  three 
sides  by  very  low  cliffs,  above  which  enormous  pines 
are  growing,  incalculably  old.  Their  vast  coiling 
roots  have  forced  their  way  through  the  face  of  the 
cliffs,  splitting  rocks ; and  their  mingling  crests  make 
a green  twilight  in  the  hollow.  One  pushes  out  three 
huge  roots  of  a very  singular  shape  ; and  the  ends  of 
these  have  been  wrapped  about  with  long  white 


BY  THE  JAPANESE  SEA. 


511 


papers  bearing  written  prayers,  and  with  offerings  of 
seaweed.  The  shape  of  these  roots,  rather  than  any 
tradition,  would  seem  to  have  made  the  tree  sacred 
in  popular  belief : it  is  the  object  of  a special  cult ; 
and  a little  torii  has  been  erected  before  it,  bearing  a 
votive  annunciation  of  the  most  artless  and  curious 
kind.  I cannot  venture  to  offer  a translation  of  it  — 
though  for  the  anthropologist  and  folk-lorist  it  cer- 
tainly possesses  peculiar  interest.  The  worship  of 
the  tree,  or  at  least  of  the  Kami  supposed  to  dwell 
therein,  is  one  rare  survival  of  a phallic  cult  probably 
common  to  most  primitive  races,  and  formerly  wide- 
spread in  Japan.  Indeed  it  was  suppressed  by  the 
government  scarcely  more  than  a generation  ago. 
On  the  opposite  side  of  the  little  hollow,  carefully 
posed  upon  a great  loose  rock,  I see  something 
equally  artless  and  almost  equally  curious,  — a ki- 
toja-no-mono,  or  ex-voto.  Two  straw  figures  joined 
together  and  reclining  side  by  side  : a straw  man 
and  a straw  woman.  The  workmanship  is  childishly 
clumsy ; but  still  the  woman  can  be  distinguished 
from  the  man  by  the  ingenious  attempt  to  imitate 
the  female  coiffure  with  a straw  wisp.  And  as  the 
man  is  represented  with  a queue,  — now  worn  only 
by  aged  survivors  of  the  feudal  era, — I suspect  that 
this  kitoja-no-moTio  Avas  made  after  some  ancient 
and  strictly  conventional  model. 

Now  this  queer  ex-voto  tells  its  own  story.  Two 
who  loved  each  other  were  separated  by  the  fault  of 
the  man ; the  charm,  of  some  joro,  perhaps,  having 
been  the  temptation  to  faithlessness.  Then  the 
wronged  one  came  here  and  prayed  the  Kami  to 
dispel  the  delusion  of  passion  and  touch  the  erring 
heart.  The  prayer  has  been  heard  ; the  pair  have 


512  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


been  reunited;  and  she  has  therefore  made  these 
two  quaint  effigies  with  her  own  hands,  and  brought 
them  to  the  Kami  of  the  pine,  — tokens  of  her  inno- 
cent faith  and  her  grateful  heart. 

VIII. 

Night  falls  as  we  reach  the  pretty  hamlet  of  Ha- 
raamura,  our  last  resting-place  by  the  sea,  for  to- 
morrow our  way  lies  inland.  The  inn  at  which  we 
lodge  is  very  small,  but  very  clean  and  cosy;  and 
there  is  a delightful  bath  of  natural  hot  water ; for 
the  yadoya  is  situated  close  to  a natural  spring. 
This  spring,  so  strangely  close  to  the  sea  beach,  also 
furnishes,  I am  told,  the  baths  of  all  the  houses  in 
the  village. 

The  best  room  is  placed  at  our  disposal ; but  I 
linger  awhile  to  examine  a very  fine  shoryobune, 
waiting,  upon  a bench  near  the  street  entrance,  to  be 
launched  to-morrow.  It  seems  to  have  been  fin- 
ished but  a short  time  ago ; for  fresh  clippings  of 
straw  lie  scattered  around  it,  and  the  kaimyo  has  not 
yet  been  written  upon  its  sail.  I am  surpi’ised  to 
hear  that  it  belongs  to  a poor  widow  and  her  son, 
both  of  whom  are  employed  by  the  hotel. 

I was  hoping  to  see  the  Bon-odori  at  Hamamura, 
but  I am  disappointed.  At  all  the  villages  the 
police  have  prohibited  the  dance.  Fear  of  cholera 
has  resulted  in  stringent  sanitary  regulations.  In 
Hamamura  the  people  have  been  ordered  to  use  no 
water  for  drinking,  cooking,  or  washing  except  the 
hot  water  of  their  own  volcanic  springs. 

A little  middle-aged  woman,  with  a remarkably 


BY  THE  JAPANESE  SEA. 


513 


sweet  voice,  comes  to  wait  upon  us  at  supper-time. 
Her  teeth  are  blackened  and  her  eyebrows  shaved 
after  the  fashion  of  married  women  twenty  years 
ago ; nevertheless  her  face  is  still  a pleasant  one,  and 
in  her  youth  she  must  have  been  uncommonly  pretty. 
Though  acting  as  a servant,  it  appears  that  she  is 
related  to  the  family  owning  the  inn,  and  that  she  is 
treated  with  the  consideration  due  to  kindred.  She 
tells  us  that  the  shorydbune  is  to  be  launched  for  her 
husband  and  brother  — both  fishermen  of  the  village, 
who  perished  in  sight  of  their  own  home  eight  years 
ago.  The  piiest  of  the  neighboring  Zen  temple  is  to 
come  in  the  morning  to  write  the  kaimyd  upon  the 
sail,  as  none  of  the  household  are  skilled  in  writinir 
the  Chinese  characters. 

I make  her  the  customary  little  gift,  and,  through 
my  attendant,  ask  her  various  questions  about  her 
history.  She  was  married  to  a man  much  older 
than  herself,  with  whom  she  lived  very  happily ; and 
her  brother,  a youth  of  eighteen,  dwelt  with  them. 
They  had  a good  boat  and  a little  piece  of  ground, 
and  she  was  skillful  at  the  loom  ; so  they  managed  to 
live  well.  In  summer  the  fishermen  fish  at  night  : 
when  all  the  fleet  is  out,  it  is  pretty  to  see  the  line  of 
torch-fires  in  the  oflBng,  two  or  three  miles  away, 
like  a string  of  stars.  They  do  not  go  out  when  the 
weather  is  threatening;  but  in  certain  months  the 
great  storms  (taifu)  come  so  quickly  that  the  boats 
are  overtaken  almost  before  they  have  time  to  hoist 
sail.  Still  as  a temple  pond  the  sea  was  on  the  night 
when  her  husband  and  brother  last  sailed  away  ; the 
taifu  rose  before  daybreak.  What  followed,  she 
relates  with  a simple  pathos  that  I cannot  reproduce 
in  our  less  artless  tongue. 


514  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


“ All  the  boats  had  come  back  except  my  hus- 
band’s; for  my  husband  and  my  brother  had  gone 
out  farther  than  the  others,  so  they  were  not  able 
to  retui’n  as  quickly.  And  all  the  people  were  look- 
ing and  waiting.  And  every  minute  the  waves 
seemed  to  be  growing  higher  and  the  wind  more  ter- 
rible ; and  the  other  boats  had  to  be  dragged  far  up 
on  the  shore  to  save  them.  Tlien  suddenly  we  saw 
my  husband’s  boat  coming  very,  very  quickly.  We 
were  so  glad  ! It  came  quite  near,  so  that  I could 
see  the  face  of  my  husband  and  the  face  of  my 
brother.  But  suddenly  a great  wave  struck  it  upon 
one  side,  and  it  turned  down  into  the  water,  and  it 
did  not  come  up  again.  And  then  we  saw  my  hus- 
band and  my  brother  swimming;  but  we  could  see 
them  only  when  the  waves  lifted  them  up.  Tall  like 
hills  the  waves  were,  and  the  head  of  my  husband, 
and  the  head  of  my  brother  would  go  up,  up,  up,  and 
then  down,  and  each  time  they  rose  to  the  top  of  a 
wave  so  that  we  could  see  them  they  would  cry  out, 
'‘Tasukete!  tasukete!'^  But  the  strong  men  were 
afraid ; the  sea  was  too  terrible ; I was  only  a wo- 
man ! Then  my  brother  could  not  be  seen  any  more. 
My  husband  was  old,  but  very  strong  ; and  he  swam 
a long  time,  — so  near  that  I could  see  his  face  was 
like  the  face  of  one  in  fear,  — and  he  called  ‘ Tasu- 
kete!’’  But  none  could  help  him;  and  he  also  went 
down  at  last.  And  yet  I could  see  his  face  before  he 
went  down. 

“ And  for  a long  time  after,  every  night,  I used  to 
see  his  face  as  I saw  it  then,  so  that  I could  not 
rest,  but  only  weep.  And  I prayed  and  prayed  to 
the  Buddhas  and  to  the  Kami-Sama  that  I might  not 

i“Help!  help!” 


BY  THE  JAPANESE  SEA. 


515 


dream  that  dream.  Nowit  never  comes;  but  I can 
still  see  his  face,  even  while  I speak.  ...  In  that 
time  my  son  was  only  a little  child.” 

Not  without  sobs  can  she  conclude  her  simple  re- 
cital. Then,  suddenly  bowing  her  head  to  the  mat- 
ting, and  wiping  away  her  tears  with  her  sleeve,  she 
humbly  prays  our  pardon  for  this  little  exhibition  of 
emotion,  and  laughs  — the  soft  low  laugh  de  rigueur 
of  Japanese  politeness.  This,  I must  confess,  touches 
me  still  more  than  the  story  itself.  At  a fitting 
moment  my  Japanese  attendant  delicately  changes 
the  theme,  and  begins  a light  chat  about  our  journey, 
and  the  danna-sama’s  interest  in  the  old  customs  and 
leorends  of  the  coast.  And  he  succeeds  in  amusing 
her  by  some  relation  of  our  wanderings  in  Izumo. 

She  asks  whither  we  are  going.  My  attendant 
answers  probably  as  far  as  Tottori. 

“Aa!  Tottori!  So  degozarimasu  ka?  . . . Now, 
there  is  an  old  story,  — the  Story  of  the  Futon  of 
Tottori.  But  the  danna-saiua  knows  that  story?” 

Indeed,  the  danna-sama  does  not,  and  begs  ear- 
nestly to  hear  it.  And  the  story  is  set  down,  some- 
what as  I learn  it  through  the  lips  of  my  interpreter. 

IX. 

Many  years  ago,  a very  small  yadoya  in  Tottori 
town  received  its  first  guest,  an  itinerant  merchant. 
He  was  received  with  more  than  common  kindness, 
for  the  landlord  desired  to  make  a good  name  for 
his  little  inn.  It  was  a new  inn,  but  as  its  owner 
was  poor,  most  of  its  dogu  — furniture  and  uten- 
sils— had  been  purchased  from  the  furuteya.^  Nev- 

1 F uruteya,  the  establishmeut  of  a dealer  in  second-hand  wares,  — • 
furute. 


516  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


ertheless,  everything  was  clean,  comforting,  and 
pretty.  The  guest  ate  heartily  and  drank  plenty  of 
good  warm  sak4 ; after  which  his  bed  was  prepared 
on  the  soft  floor,  and  he  laid  himself  down  to 
sleep. 

[But  here  I must  interrupt  the  story  for  a few 
moments,  to  say  a word  about  Japanese  beds.  Never, 
unless  some  inmate  happen  to  be  sick,  do  you  see 
a bed  in  any  Japanese  house  by  day,  though  you 
visit  all  the  rooms  and  peep  into  all  the  corners.  In 
fact,  no  bed  exists,  in  the  Occidental  meaning  of  the 
word.  That  which  the  Japanese  call  bed  has  no 
bedstead,  no  spring,  no  mattress,  no  sheets,  no 
blankets.  It  consists  of  thick  quilts  only,  stuffed, 
or,  rather,  padded  with  cotton,  which  are  called 
futon.  A certain  number  of  futon  are  laid  down 
upon  the  tatami  (the  floor  mats),  and  a certain  num- 
ber of  others  are  used  for  coverings.  The  wealthy 
can  lie  upon  five  or  six  quilts,  and  cover  themselves 
with  as  many  as  they  please,  while  poor  folk  must 
content  themselves  with  two  or  three.  And  of  course 
there  are  many  kinds,  from  the  servant’s  cotton  fu- 
ton which  is  no  larger  than  a Western  hearth  rug, 
and  not  much  thicker,  to  the  heavy  and  superb  fu- 
ton silk,  eight  feet  long  by  seven  broad,  which  only 
the  kanemochi  can  afford.  Besides  these  there  is  the 
yogi,  a massive  quilt  made  with  wide  sleeves  like  a 
kimono,  in  which  you  can  find  much  comfort  when 
the  weather  is  extremely  cold.  All  such  things 
are  neatly  folded  up  and  stowed  out  of  sight  by  day  in 
alcoves  contrived  in  the  wall  and  closed  with  fusuma  — 
pretty  sliding  screen  doors  covered  with  opaque  paper 
usually  decorated  with  dainty  designs.  There  also 


BY  THE  JAPANESE  SEA. 


517 


are  kept  those  curious  wooden  pillows,  invented  to 
preserve  the  Japanese  coiffure  from  becoming  disar- 
ranged during  sleep. 

The  pillow  has  a certain  sacredness  ; but  the  origin 
and  the  precise  nature  of  the  beliefs  concerning  it 
I have  not  been  able  to  learn.  Only  this  I know, 
that  to  touch  it  with  the  foot  is  considered  very 
wrong ; and  that  if  it  be  kicked  or  moved  thus,  even 
by  accident,  the  clumsiness  must  be  atoned  for  by 
lifting  the  pillow  to  the  forehead  with  the  hands, 
and  replacing  it  in  its  original  position  respectfully, 
with  the  word  “go-men,”  signifying,  I pray  to  be  ex- 
cused.] 

Now,  as  a rule,  one  sleeps  soundly  after  having 
drunk  plenty  of  warm  sak^,  especially  if  the  night  be 
cool  and  the  bed  very  snug.  But  the  guest,  having 
slept  but  a very  little  while,  was  aroused  by  the 
sound  of  voices  in  his  room,  — voices  of  children, 
always  asking  each  other  the  same  questions : — 

“ Ani-San  saraukard  ? ” 

“ Omae  samukaro  ? ” 

The  presence  of  children  in  his  room  might  annoy 
the  guest,  but  could  not  surprise  him,  for  in  these 
Japanese  hotels  there  are  no  doors,  but  only  papered 
sliding  screens  between  room  and  room.  So  it 
seemed  to  him  that  some  children  must  have  wan- 
dered into  his  apartment,  by  mistake,  in  the  dark. 
He  uttered  some  gentle  rebuke.  For  a moment  only 
there  was  silence  ; then  a sweet,  thin,  plaintive  voice 
queried,  close  to  his  ear,  “Ani-San  samukaro?” 
[Elder  Brother  probably  is  cold  ?J,  and  another  sweet 
voice  made  answer  caressingly,  “ Omae  samukaro?” 
[Nay,  thou  probably  art  cold  ?] 


518  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


He  arose  and  rekindled  the  candle  in  the  andon,^ 
and  looked  about  the  room.  There  was  no  one.  The 
shoji  were  all  closed.  He  examined  the  cupboards; 
they  were  empty.  Wondering,  he  lay  down  again, 
leaving  the  light  still  burning ; and  immediately  the 
voices  spoke  again,  complainingly,  close  to  his  pillow  ; 

“ Ani-San  samukarb  ? ” 

“ Omae  samukaro  ? ” 

Then,  for  the  first  time,  he  felt  a chill  creep  over 
him,  which  was  not  the  chill  of  the  night.  Again 
and  again  he  heard,  and  each  time  he  became  more 
afraid.  For  he  knew  that  the  voices  were  in  the 
futon  ! It  was  the  covering  of  the  bed  that  cried  out 
thus. 

He  gathered  hurriedly  together  the  few  articles 
belonging  to  him,  arid,  descending  the  stairs,  aroused 
the  landlord  and  told  what  had  passed.  Then  the 
host,  much  angered,  made  reply : “ That  to  make 
pleased  the  honorable  guest  everything  has  been 
done,  the  truth  is ; but  the  honorable  guest  too  much 
august  sakb  having  drank,  bad  dreams  has  seen.” 
Nevertheless  the  guest  insisted  upon  paying  at  once 
that  which  he  owed,  and  seeking  lodging  elsewhere. 

Next  evening  there  came  another  guest  who  asked 
for  a room  for  the  night.  At  a late  hour  the  land- 
lord was  aroused  by  his  lodger  with  the  same  story. 
And  this  lodger,  sti-ange  to  say,  had  not  taken  any 
sak^.  Suspecting  some  envious  plot  to  ruin  his  busi- 
iiess,  the  landlord  answered  passionately : “ Thee  to 
please  all  things  honorably  have  been  done  : never- 
theless, ill-omened  and  vexatious  words  thou  utterest. 
And  that  my  inn  my  means-of-livelihood  is — that 

1 Andon,  a paper  lantern  of  peculiar  construction,  used  as  a night 
light.  Some  forms  of  the  andon  are  remarkably  beautiful. 


BY  THE  JAPANESE  SEA. 


519 


also  thou  knowest.  IVlierefore  that  such  things  be 
spoken,  right-there-is-none ! ” Then  the  guest,  get- 
ting into  a passion,  loudly  said  things  much  more 
evil ; and  the  two  parted  in  hot  anger. 

But  after  the  guest  was  gone,  the  landlord,  think- 
ing all  this  very  strange,  ascended  to  the  empty 
room  to  examine  the  futon.  And  while  there,  he 
heard  the  voices,  and  he  discovered  that  the  guests 
had  said  only  the  truth.  It  was  one  covering  — only 
one  — which  cried  out.  The  rest  were  silent.  He 
took  the  covering  into  his  own  room,  and  for  the  re- 
mainder of  the  niglit  lay  down  beneatii  it.  And  the 
voices  continued  until  the  liour  of  dawn  : “ Ani-San 
samukaro  ?”  “ Oniae  samukard  ? ” So  that  he  could 
not  sleep. 

But  at  break  of  day  he  rose  up  and  went  out  to 
find  the  owner  of  the  furuteya  at  which  the  futon  had 
been  purchased.  The  dealer  knew  nothing.  He  had 
bought  the  futon  from  a smaller  shop,  and  the  keeper 
of  that  shop  had  purchased  it  from  a still  poorer 
dealer  dwelling  in  the  farthest  suburb  of  the  city. 
And  the  innkeeper  went  from  one  to  the  other,  ask- 
ing questions. 

Then  at  last  it  was  found  that  the  futon  had  be- 
longed to  a poor  family,  and  had  been  bought  from 
the  landlord  of  a little  house  in  wliich  the  family  had 
lived,  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  town.  And  the 
story  of  the  futon  was  this : — 

The  rent  of  the  little  house  was  only  sixty  sen  a 
month,  but  even  this  was  a great  deal  for  the  poor 
folks  to  pay.  The  father  could  earn  only  two  or 
three  yen  a month,  and  the  mother  was  ill  and 
could  not  work;  and  there  were  two  children,  — a 


VOL.  u. 


520  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


boy  of  six  years  and  a boy  of  eight.  And  they 
were  strangers  in  Tottori. 

One  winter’s  day  the  father  sickened ; and  after  a 
week  of  suffering  he  died,  and  was  buried.  Then 
the  long-sick  mother  followed  him,  and  the  children 
were  left  alone.  They  knew  no  one  whom  they 
could  ask  for  aid  ; and  in  order  to  live  they  began  to 
sell  what  there  was  to  sell. 

That  was  not  much  : the  clothes  of  the  dead 
father  and  mother,  and  most  of  their  own  ; some 
quilts  of  cotton,  and  a few  poor  household  utensils, 
— hibachi,  bowls,  cups,  and  other  trifles.  Every  day 
they  sold  something,  until  there  was  nothing  left  but 
one  futon.  And  a day  came  when  they  had  nothing 
to  eat ; and  the  rent  was  not  paid. 

The  terrible  Dai-kan  had  arrived,  the  season  of 
greatest  cold ; and  the  snow  had  drifted  too  high 
that  day  for  them  to  wander  far  from  the  little 
house.  So  they  could  only  lie  down  under  their  one 
futon,  and  shiver  together,  and  compassionate  each 
other  in  their  own  childish  way,  — 

“ Ani-San,  samukaro  ? ” 

“ Omae  samukaro  ? ” 

They  had  no  fire,  nor  anything  with  which  to 
make  fire ; and  the  darkness  came  ; and  the  icy  wind 
screamed  into  the  little  house. 

They  were  afraid  of  the  wind,  but  they  were 
more  afraid  of  the  house-owner,  who  roused  them 
roughly  to  demand  his  rent.  He  was  a hard  man, 
with  an  evil  face.  And  finding  there  was  none  to 
pay  him,  he  turned  the  children  into  the  snow,  and 
took  their  one  futon  away  from  them,  and  locked  up 
the  house. 

They  had  but  one  thin  blue  kimono  each,  for  all 


BY  THE  JAPANESE  SEA. 


521 


their  other  clothes  had  been  sold  to  buy  food ; and 
they  had  nowhere  to  go.  There  was  a temple  of 
Kwannon  not  far  away,  but  the  snow  was  too  high 
for  them  to  reach  it.  So  when  the  landlord  was 
gone,  they  crept  back  behind  the  house.  There  the 
drowsiness  of  cold  fell  upon  them,  and  they  slept, 
embracing  each  other  to  keep  warm.  And  while 
they  slept,  the  gods  covered  them  with  a new  futon, 
— ghostly-white  and  very  beautiful.  And  they  did 
not  feel  cold  any  more.  For  many  daj  s they  slept 
there;  then  somebody  found  them,  and  a bed  was 
made  for  them  in  the  hakaba  of  the  Temple  of  Kwan- 
non-of-the-Thousand-Arms. 

And  the  innkeeper,  having  heard  these  things, 
gave  the  futon  to  the  priests  of  the  temple,  and 
caused  tlie  kyo  to  be  recited  for  the  little  souls. 
And  the  futon  ceased  thereafter  to  speak. 


X. 

One  legend  recalls  another;  and  I hear  to-night 
many  strange  ones.  Tlie  most  remarkable  is  a tale 
which  my  attendant  suddenly  remembers,  — a legend 
of  Izumo. 

Once  there  lived  in  the  Izumo  village  called  Mo- 
chida-no-ura  a peasant  who  was  so  poor  that  he  was 
afraid  to  have  children.  And  each  time  that  his  wife 
bore  him  a child  he  cast  it  into  the  river,  and  pre- 
tended that  it  had  been  born  dead.  Sometimes  it 
was  a son,  sometimes  a daughter;  but  always  the 
infant  was  thrown  into  the  river  at  night.  Six  were 
murdered  thus. 

But,  as  the  years  passed,  the  peasant  found  himself 


622  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


more  prosperous.  He  had  been  able  to  purchase 
land  and  to  lay  by  money.  And  at  last  bis  wife 
bore  him  a seventh  child,  — a boy. 

Tben  the  man  said : “ Now  we  can  support  a 
child,  and  we  shall  need  a son  to  aid  us  when  we  are 
old.  And  this  boy  is  beautiful.  So  we  will  bring 
him  up.” 

And  the  infant  thrived  ; and  each  day  the  hard 
peasant  wondered  more  at  his  own  heart,  — for  each 
day  he  knew  that  he  loved  his  son  more. 

One  summer’s  night  he  walked  out  into  his  gar- 
den, carrying  his  child  in  his  arms.  The  little  one 
was  five  months  old. 

And  the  night  was  so  beautiful,  with  its  great 
moon,  that  the  peasant  cried  out,  — 

'•'•Aa!  kon  ya  medzwrashii  e yo  da!"  [Ah!  to- 
night truly  a wondrously  beautiful  night  is!] 

Then  tlie  infant,  looking  up  into  his  face  and 
speaking  the  speech  of  a man,  said, — 

“ Why,  father!  the  last  time  you  threio  me  away 
the  night  was  just  like  this,  and  the  moon  looked 
just  the  same,  did  it  not?”^ 

And  thereafter  the  child  remained  as  other  chil- 
dren of  the  same  age,  and  spoke  no  word. 

The  peasant  became  a monk. 

XI. 

After  the  supper  and  the  bath,  feeling  too  warm  to 
sleep,  I wander  out  alone  to  visit  the  village  hakaba, 
a long  cemetery  upon  a sandhill,  or  rather  a pro- 
digious dune,  thinly  covered  at  its  summit  with  soil, 

1 “ Ototsan  ! washi  u'o  shimai  ni  shitesashita  tvki  mo,  cliddo  kon  ya  no 
yona  tsuki  yo  dala-ne  f ” — Izumo  dialect. 


BY  THE  JAPANESE  SEA. 


523 


but  revealing  through  its  crumbling  flanks  the  story 
of  its  creation  by  ancient  tides,  mightier  than  tides 
of  to-day. 

I wade  to  my  knees  in  sand  to  reach  the  cemetery. 
It  is  a warm  moonlight  night,  with  a great  breeze. 
There  are  many  bon-lanterns  (^bondoro),  but  the  sea- 
wind  has  blown  out  most  of  them  ; only  a few  here 
and  there  still  shed  a soft  white  glow,  — pretty 
shrine-shaped  cases  of  wood,  with  apertures  of  sym- 
bolic outline,  covered  with  white  paper.  Visitors 
beside  myself  there  are  none,  for  it  is  late.  But 
much  gentle  work  has  been  done  here  to-day,  for 
all  the  bamboo  vases  have  been  furnished  with  fresh 
flowers  or  sprays,  and  the  water  basins  filled  with 
fresh  water,  and  the  monuments  cleansed  and  beau- 
tified. And  in  the  farthest  nook  of  the  cemetery  I 
find,  before  one  very  humble  tomb,  a pretty  zen  or 
lacquered  dining  tray,  covered  with  dishes  and  bowls 
containing  a perfect  dainty  little  Japanese  repast. 
There  is  also  a pair  of  new  chopsticks,  and  a little 
cup  of  tea,  and  some  of  the  dishes  are  still  warm.  A 
loving  woman’s  work ; the  prints  of  her  little  sandals 
are  fresh  upon  the  path. 


XII. 

There  is  an  Irish  folk-saying  that  any  dream  may 
be  remembered  if  the  dreamer,  after  awakening,  for- 
bear to  scratch  his  head  in  the  effort  to  recall  it. 
But  should  he  forget  this  precaution,  never  can  the 
dream  be  brought  back  to  memory : as  well  try  to 
re-form  the  curlings  of  a smoke-wreath  blown  away. 

Nine  hundred  and  ninety -nine  of  a thousand 
dreams  are  indeed  hopelessly  evaporative.  But  cer- 
tain rare  dreams,  which  come  when  fancy  has  been 


524  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


strangely  impressed  by  unfamiliar  experiences,  — 
dreams  particularly  apt  to  occur  in  time  of  travel,  — 
remain  in  recollection,  imaged  with  all  the  vividness 
of  real  events. 

Of  such  was  the  dream  I dreamed  at  Hamamura, 
after  having  seen  and  heard  those  things  previously 
written  down. 

Some  pale  broad  paved  place — perhaps  the  thought 
of  a temple  court  — tinted  by  a faint  sun;  and  be- 
fore me  a woman,  neither  young  nor  old,  seated  at 
the  base  of  a great  gray  pedestal  that  supported  I 
know  not  what,  for  I could  look  only  at  the 
woman’s  face.  Awhile  I thought  that  I remembered 
her  — a woman  of  Izumo  ; then  she  seemed  a weird- 
ness. Her  lips  were  moving,  but  her  eyes  remained 
closed,  and  I could  not  choose  but  look  at  her. 

And  in  a voice  that  seemed  to  come  thin  through 
distance  of  years  she  began  a soft  wailing  chant ; 
and,  as  I listened,  vague  memories  came  to  me  of  a 
Celtic  lullaby.  And  as  she  sang,  she  loosed  with 
one  hand  her  long  black  hair,  till  it  fell  coiling  upon 
the  stones.  And,  having  fallen,  it  was  no  longer 
black,  but  blue,  — pale  day-blue, — and  was  moving 
sinuously,  crawling  with  swift  blue  ripplings  to  and 
fro.  And  then,  suddenly,  I became  aware  that  the 
ripplings  were  far,  very  far  away,  and  that  the 
woman  was  gone.  There  was  only  the  sea,  blue- 
billowing  to  the  verge  of  heaven,  with  long  slow 
flashings  of  soundless  surf. 

And  wakening,  I heard  in  the  night  the  muttering 
of  the  real  sea,  — the  vast  husky  speech  of  the 
Hotoke-Umi,  — the  Tide  of  the  Returning  Ghosts. 


XXII 


OF  A DANCING-GIRL. 

Nothing  is  more  silent  than  the  beginning  of  a 
Japanese  banquet ; and  no  one,  except  a native,  who 
observes  the  opening  scene  could  possibly  imagine 
the  tumultuous  ending. 

The  robed  guests  take  their  places,  quite  noiselessly 
and  without  speech,  upon  the  kneeling-cushions.  The 
lacquered  services  are  laid  upon  the  matting  before 
them  by  maidens  whose  bare  feet  make  no  sound. 
For  a while  there  is  only  smiling  and  flitting,  as  in 
dreams.  You  are  not  likely  to  hear  any  voices  from 
without,  as  a banqueting-house  is  usually  secluded 
from  the  street  by  spacious  gardens.  At  last  the 
master  of  ceremonies,  host  or  provider,  breaks  the 
hush  with  the  consecrated  formula:  “ 0-somatsu 
degozarimam  ga!  — dozo  o-hashi  !"  whereat  all  pres- 
ent bow  silently,  take  up  their  hashi  (chopsticks), 
and  fall  to.  But  hashi,  deftly  used,  cannot  be  heard 
at  all.  The  maidens  pour  warm  sak^  into  the  cup  of 
each  guest  without  making  the  least  sound ; and  it  is 
not  until  several  dishes  have  been  emptied,  and  sev- 
eral cups  of  sak^  absorbed,  that  tongues  are  loosened. 

Then,  all  at  once,  with  a little  burst  of  laughter, 
a number  of  young  girls  enter,  make  the  customary 
prostration  of  greeting,  glide  into  the  open  space  be- 
tween the  ranks  of  the  guests,  and  begin  to  serve  the 
wine  with  a grace  and  dexterity  of  which  no  common 
maid  is  capable.  They  are  pretty ; they  are  clad  in 
very  costly  robes  of  silk ; they  are  girdled  like 


526  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


queens ; and  the  beautifully  dressed  hair  of  each  is 
decked  with  fresh  flowers,  with  wonderful  combs  and 
pins,  and  with  curious  ornaments  of  gold.  They 
greet  the  stranger  as  if  they  had  always  known  him; 
they  jest,  laugh,  and  utter  funny  little  cries.  These 
are  the  geisha,^  or  dancing-girls,  hired  for  the  ban- 
quet. 

Samisen  ^ tinkle.  The  dancers  withdraw  to  a clear 
space  at  the  farther  end  of  the  banqueting-hall,  al- 
ways vast  enough  to  admit  of  many  more  guests  than 
ever  assemble  upon  common  occasions.  Some  form 
the  orchestra,  under  the  direction  of  a woman  of 
uncertain  age  ; there  are  several  samisen,  and  a tin}’’ 
drum  played  by  a child.  Others,  singly  or  in  pairs, 
perform  the  dance.  It  may  be  swift  and  merr}’,  con- 
sisting wholly  of  graceful  posturing,  — two  girls 
dancing  together  with  such  coincidence  of  step  and 
gesture  as  only  years  of  training  could  render  possi- 
ble. But  more  frequently  it  is  rather  like  acting 
than  like  what  we  Occidentals  call  dancing,  — acting 
accompanied  with  extraordinary  waving  of  sleeves 
and  fans,  and  with  a play  of  eyes  and  features,  sweet, 
subtle,  subdued,  wholly  Oriental.  There  are  more 
voluptuous  dances  known  to  geisha,  but  upon  ordi- 
nary occasions  and  before  refined  audiences  they  por- 
tray beautiful  old  Japanese  traditions,  like  the  legend 
of  the  fisher  Urashima,  beloved  by  the  Sea  God's 
daughter;  and  at  intervals  they  sing  ancient  Chinese 
poems,  expressing  a natural  emotion  with  delicious 
vividness  by  a few  exquisite  words.  And  always 
they  pour  the  wine,  — that  warm,  pale  yellow,  drowsy 
wine  which  fills  the  veins  with  soft  contentment, 
making  a faint  sense  of  ecstasy,  through  which,  as 

1 The  Kj'oto  word  is  maiko.  ^ Guitars  of  three  strings. 


OF  A DANCING-GIRL. 


527 


through  some  poppied  sleep,  the  commonplace  be- 
comes wondrous  and  blissful,  and  the  geisha  Maids  of 
Paradise,  and  the  world  much  sweeter  than,  in  the 
natural  order  of  things,  it  could  ever  possibly  be. 

The  banquet,  at  first  so  silent,  slowly  changes  to 
a merry  tumult.  The  company  break  ranks,  form 
groups ; and  from  group  to  group  the  girls  pass, 
laughing,  prattling,  — still  pouring  sak4  into  the  cups 
which  are  being  exchanged  and  emptied  with  low 
bows.^  Men  begin  to  sing  old  samurai  songs,  old 
Chinese  poems.  One  or  two  even  dance.  A geisha 
tucks  her  robe  well  up  to  her  knees ; and  the 
samisen  strike  up  the  quick  melody,  Kompira 
fune-funS."  As  the  music  plays,  she  begins  to  run 
lightly  and  swiftly  in  a figure  of  8,  and  a young 
man,  carrying  a sakd  bottle  and  cup,  also  runs  in  the 
same  figure  of  8.  If  the  two  meet  on  a line,  the  one 
through  whose  error  the  meeting  happens  must  drink 
a cup  of  sakd.  The  music  becomes  quicker  and 
quicker  and  the  runners  run  faster  and  faster,  for 
they  must  keep  time  to  the  melody ; and  the  geisha 
wins.  In  another  part  of  the  room,  guests  and  geisha 
are  playing  ken.  They  sing  as  they  play,  facing 
each  other,  and  clap  their  hands,  and  fling  out  their 
fingers  at  intervals  with  little  cries ; and  the  samisen 
keep  time. 

Choito,  — don^don  ! 

Otagaidand  ; 

Choito,  — don-don  ! 

Oldemashitand ; 

Choito,  — don-don  ! 

Shimaimashitand. 

Now,  to  play  ken  with  a geisha  requires  a perfectly 

1 It  is  sometimes  customary  for  guests  to  exchange  cups,  after 
duly  rinsing  them.  It  is  always  a compliment  to  ask  for  your  friend’s 
cup. 


528  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


cool  head,  a quick  eye,  and  much  practice.  Having 
been  trained  from  childhood  to  play  all  kinds  of  ken, 
— and  there  are  many,  — she  generally  loses  only 
for  politeness,  when  she  loses  at  all.  The  signs  of 
the  most  common  ken  are  a Man,  a Fox,  and  a Gun. 
If  the  geisha  make  the  sign  of  the  Gun,  you  must 
instantly,  and  in  exact  time  to  the  music,  make  the 
sign  of  the  Fox,  wlio  cannot  use  the  Gun.  For  if  you 
make  the  sign  of  the  INIan,  then  she  will  answer  with 
the  sign  of  the  Fox,  who  can  deceive  the  Man,  and 
you  lose.  And  if  she  make  the  sign  of  the  Fox  first, 
then  you  should  make  the  sign  of  the  Gun,  bj'  which 
the  Fox  can  be  killed.  But  all  the  while  you  must 
watch  her  bright  eyes  and  supple  hands.  These  are 
pretty  ; and  if  you  suffer  yourself,  just  for  one  frac- 
tion of  a second,  to  think  how  pretty  they  are,  you 
are  bewitched  and  vanquished. 

Notwithstanding  all  this  apparent  comradeship,  a 
certain  rigid  decorum  between  guest  and  geisha  is 
invariably  preserved  at  a Japanese  banquet.  How- 
ever flushed  with  wine  a guest  may  have  become, 
you  will  never  see  him  attempt  to  caress  a girl ; he 
never  forgets  that  she  appears  at  the  festivities  only 
as  a human  flower,  to  be  looked  at,  not  to  be  touched. 
The  familiarity  which  foreign  toui’ists  in  Japan  fre- 
quently permit  themselves  with  geisha  or  with  waiter- 
girls,  though  endured  with  smiling  patience,  is  really 
much  disliked,  and  considered  by  native  observers  an 
evidence  of  extreme  vulgarity. 

For  a time  the  merriment  grows  ; but  as  midnight 
draws  near,  the  guests  begin  to  slip  away,  one  by 
one,  unnoticed.  Then  the  din  gradually  dies  down, 
the  music  stops ; and  at  last  the  geisha,  having  es- 
corted the  latest  of  the  feasters  to  the  door,  with 


OF  A DANCING-GIRL.  529 

laughing  cries  of  Saydnara.,  can  sit  down  alone  to 
break  their  long  fast  in  the  deserted  hall. 

Such  is  the  geisha’s  role.  But  what  is  the  mystery 
of  her?  What  are  her  thoughts,  her  emotions,  her 
secret  self  ? What  is  her  veritable  existence  beyond 
the  night  cii’cle  of  the  banquet  lights,  far  from  the 
illusion  formed  around  her  by  the  mist  of  wine  ? Is 
she  always  as  mischievous  as  she  seems  while  her 
voice  ripples  out  with  mocking  sweetness  the  words 
of  the  ancient  song? 

Kimi  to  neyaru  ha,  go  sengohu  toruka  ? 

Nanno  gosengoku  kimi  to  neyo  ? 1 

Or  might  we  think  her  capable  of  keeping  that  pas- 
sionate promise  she  utters  so  deliciously  ? 

Omae  shindara  tera  ewa  yaranu  I 
Yaete  konishite  sake  de  nomu.^ 

“ Why,  as  for  that,”  a friend  tells  me,  “ there  was 
0-Kama  of  Osaka  who  realized  the  song  only  last 
year.  For  she,  having  collected  from  the  funeral 
pile  the  ashes  of  her  lover,  mingled  them  with  sak^, 
and  at  a banquet  drank  them,  in  the  presence  of  many 
guests.”  In  the  presence  of  many  guests ! Alas  for 
romance  ! 

Always  in  the  dwelling  which  a band  of  geisha 

1 “ Once  more  to  rest  beside  her,  or  keep  fire  thousand  koku  ? 

What  care  I for  koku  ? Let  me  be  with  her ” 

There  lived  in  ancient  times  a hatamoto  called  Fuji-eda  Geld,  a vas- 
sal of  the  Shogun.  He  had  an  income  of  five  thousand  koku  of  rice, 
— a great  income  in  those  days.  But  he  fell  in  love  with  an  inmate 
of  the  Yoshiwara,  named  Ayaginu,  and  wished  to  marry  her.  When 
his  master  bade  the  vassal  choose  between  his  fortune  and  his  passion, 
the  lovers  fled  secretly  to  a farmer’s  house,  and  there  committed  sui- 
cide together.  And  the  above  song  was  made  about  them.  It  is  still 
sung. 

• ‘‘  Dear,  shouldst  thou  die,  grave  shall  hold  thee  never ! 

I thy  body’s  ashes,  mixed  with  wine,  will  drink.” 


530  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


occupy  there  is  a strange  image  placed  in  the  alcove. 
Sometimes  it  is  of  clay,  rarely  of  gold,  most  com- 
monly of  porcelain.  It  is  reverenced : offerings  are 
made  to  it,  sweetmeats  and  rice  bread  and  wine  ; in- 
cense smoulders  in  front  of  it,  and  a lamp  is  burned 
before  it.  It  is  the  image  of  a kitten  erect,  one  paw 
outstretched  as  if  inviting,  — whence  its  name,  “ the 
Beckoning  Kitten.”^  It  is  the  genius  loci:  it  brings 
good-fortune,  the  patronage  of  the  lich,  the  favor  of 
banquet-givers.  Now,  they  who  know  the  soul  of  the 
geisha  aver  that  the  semblance  of  the  image  is  the 
semblance  of  herself,  — playful  and  pretty,  soft  and 
young,  lithe  and  caressing,  and  cruel  as  a devouring 
fire. 

Worse,  also,  than  this  they  have  said  of  her:  that 
in  her  shadow  treads  the  God  of  Poverty,  and  that 
the  Fox-women  are  her  sisters  ; that  she  is  the  ruin 
of  youth,  the  waster  of  fortunes,  the  destroyer  of 
families  ; that  she  knows  love  only  as  the  source  of 
the  follies  which  are  her  gain,  and  grows  rich  upon 
the  substance  of  men  whose  graves  she  has  made ; 
that  she  is  the  most  consummate  of  pretty  hypo- 
crites, the  most  dangerous  of  schemers,  the  most 
insatiable  of  mercenaries,  the  most  pitiless  of  mis- 
tresses. This  cannot  all  be  true.  Yet  thus  much  is 
true, — that,  like  the  kitten,  the  geisha  is  by  pro- 
fession a creature  of  prey.  There  are  many  really 
lovable  kittens.  Even  so  there  must  be  really  de- 
lightful dancing-girls. 

The  geisha  is  only  what  she  has  been  made  in 
answer  to  foolish  human  desire  for  the  illusion  of 
love  mixed  with  youth  and  grace,  but  without  regrets 
or  responsibilities : wherefore  she  has  been  taught, 
1 Maneki-Neko. 


OF  A DANCING-GIRL. 


531 


besides  ken,  to  play  at  hearts.  Now,  the  eternal  law 
is  that  people  may  play  with  impunity  at  any  game 
in  tliis  unhappy  world  except  tlu’ee,  which  are  called 
Life,  Love,  and  Death.  Those  the  gods  have  re- 
served to  themselves,  because  nobody  else  can  learn 
to  play  them  without  doing  mischief.  Therefore,  to 
play  with  a geisha  any  game  much  more  serious  than 
ken,  or  at  least  go,  is  displeasing  to  the  gods. 

The  girl  begins  her  career  as  a slave,  a pretty  child 
bought  from  miserably  poor  parents  under  a contract, 
according  to  which  her  services  may  be  claimed  by 
the  purchasers  for  eighteen,  twenty,  or  even  twenty- 
five  years.  She  is  fed,  clothed,  and  trained  in  a house 
occupied  only  by  geisha ; and  she  passes  the  rest  of 
her  childhood  under  severe  discipline.  She  is  taught 
etiquette,  grace,  polite  speech  ; she  has  daily  lessons 
in  dancing ; and  she  is  obliged  to  learn  by  heart  a 
multitude  of  songs  with  their  airs.  Also  she  must 
learn  games,  the  service  of  banquets  and  weddings, 
the  art  of  dressing  and  looking  beautiful.  Whatever 
physical  gifts  she  may  have  are  carefully  cultivated. 
Afterwards  she  is  taught  to  handle  musical  instru- 
ments : first,  the  little  drum  (tsudzumi),  which  can- 
not be  sounded  at  all  without  considerable  practice ; 
then  she  learns  to  play  the  sainisen  a little,  with  a 
plectrum  of  tortoise-shell  or  ivory.  At  eight  or  nine 
years  of  age  she  attends  banquets,  chiefly  as  a drum- 
player.  She  is  then  the  most  charming  little  creature 
imaginable,  and  already  knows  how  to  fill  your  wine- 
cup  exactly  full,  with  a single  toss  of  the  bottle  and 
without  spilling  a drop,  between  two  taps  of  her 
drum. 

Thereafter  her  discipline  becomes  more  cruel.  Her 


532  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


voice  may  be  flexible  enough,  but  lacks  the  requisite 
strength.  In  the  iciest  hours  of  winter  nights,  she 
must  ascend  to  the  roof  of  her  dwelling-house,  and 
there  sing  and  play  till  the  blood  oozes  from  her 
fingers  and  the  voice  dies  in  her  throat.  The  desired 
result  is  an  atrocious  cold.  After  a period  of  hoarse 
whispering,  her  voice  changes  its  tone  and  strength- 
ens. She  is  ready  to  become  a public  singer  and 
dancer. 

In  this  capacity  she  usually  makes  her  first  appear- 
ance at  the  age  of  twelve  or  thirteen.  If  pretty  and 
skillful,  her  services  will  be  much  in  demand,  and 
her  time  paid  for  at  the  rate  of  twenty  to  twenty-five 
sen  per  hour.  Then  only  do  her  purcbasers  begin  to 
reimburse  themselves  for  the  time,  expense,  and 
trouble  of  her  training ; and  they  are  not  apt  to  be 
generous.  For  many  years  more  all  that  she  earns 
must  pass  into  their  hands.  She  can  own  nothing, 
not  even  her  clothes. 

At  seventeen  or  eighteen  she  has  made  her  artistic 
reputation.  She  has  been  at  many  hundreds  of  en- 
tertainments, and  knows  by  sight  all  the  important 
personages  of  her  city,  the  character  of  each,  the  his- 
tory of  all.  Her  life  has  been  chiefly  a nigbt  life ; 
rarely  has  she  seen  the  sun  rise  since  she  became  a 
dancer.  She  has  learned  to  drink  wine  without  ever 
losing  her  head,  and  to  fast  for  seven  or  eight  hours 
without  ever  feeling  the  worse.  She  has  had  many 
lovers.  To  a certain  extent  she  is  free  to  smile  upon 
whom  she  pleases;  but  she  has  been  well  taught,  above 
all  else,  to  use  her  power  of  charm  for  her  own  advan- 
tage. She  hopes  to  find  Somebody  able  and  willing 
to  buy  her  freedom,  — which  Somebody  would  al- 
most certainly  thereafter  discover  many  new  and 


OF  A DANCING-GIRL. 


533 


excellent  meanings  in  those  Buddhist  texts  that  tell 
about  the  foolishness  of  love  and  the  impermaneucy 
of  all  human  relationships. 

At  this  point  of  her  career  we  may  leave  the 
geisha : thereafter  her  story  is  apt  to  prove  unpleas- 
ant, unless  she  die  young.  Should  that  happen,  she 
will  have  the  obsequies  of  her  class,  and  her  memory 
will  be  preserved  by  divers  curious  rites. 

Some  time,  perhaps,  while  wandering  through  Jap- 
anese streets  at  night,  you  hear  sounds  of  music,  a 
tinkling  of  samisen  floating  through  the  great  gate- 
way of  a Buddhist  temple,  together  with  shrill  voices 
of  singing-girls  ; which  may  seem  to  you  a strange 
happening.  And  the  deep  court  is  thronged  with 
people  looking  and  listening.  Then,  making  your 
way  through  the  press  to  the  temple  steps,  you  see 
two  geisha  seated  upon  the  matting  within,  playing 
and  singing,  and  a third  dancing  before  a little  table. 
Upon  the  table  is  an  ihai,  or  mortuary  tablet ; in 
front  of  the  tablet  burns  a little  lamp,  and  incense  in 
a cup  of  bronze ; a small  repast  has  been  placed 
there,  fruits  and  dainties,  — such  a repast  as,  upon 
festival  occasions,  it  is  the  custom  to  offer  to  the 
dead.  You  learn  that  the  kaimyo  upon  the  tablet  is 
that  of  a geisha  ; and  that  the  comrades  of  the  dead 
girl  assemble  in  the  temple  on  certain  days  to  glad- 
den her  spirit  with  songs  and  dances.  Then  who- 
soever pleases  may  attend  the  ceremony  free  of 
charge. 

But  the  dancincr-girls  of  ancient  times  were  not 
as  the  geisha  of  to-day.  Some  of  them  were  called 
shirabyoshi ; and  their  hearts  were  not  extremely 
hard.  They  were  beautiful  ; they  wore  queerly 


534  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


shaped  caps  bedecked  with  gold ; they  were  clad  in 
splendid  attire,  and  danced  with  swords  in  the  dwell- 
ings of  princes.  And  there  is  an  old  story  about 
one  of  them  which  I think  it  worth  while  to  tell. 


I. 

It  was  formerly,  and  indeed  still  is,  a custom  with 
3'oung  Japanese  artists  to  travel  on  foot  through 
various  parts  of  the  empire,  in  order  to  see  and 
sketch  the  most  celebrated  scenery  as  well  as  to 
study  famous  art  objects  preserved  in  Buddhist  tem- 
ples, many  of  which  occupy  sites  of  extraordinary 
picturesqueness.  It  is  to  such  wanderings,  chiefly, 
that  we  owe  the  existence  of  those  beautiful  books  of 
landscape  views  and  life  studies  which  are  now  so 
curious  and  rare,  and  which  teach  better  than  aught 
else  that  only  the  Japanese  can  paint  Japanese  scen- 
ery. After  you  have  become  acquainted  with  their 
methods  of  interpreting  their  own  nature,  foreign 
attempts  in  the  same  line  will  seem  to  you  strangely 
flat  and  soulless.  The  foreign , artist  will  give  you 
realistic  reflections  of  what  he  sees  ; but  he  will  give 
yon  nothing  more.  The  Japanese  artist  gives  3’ou 
that  whicli  he  feels,  — the  mood  of  a season,  the  pre- 
cise sensation  of  an  hour  and  place ; his  work  is 
qualified  by  a power  of  suggestiveness  rarely  found 
in  the  art  of  the  West.  The  Occidental  painter 
renders  minute  detail ; he  satisfies  the  imagination  he 
evokes.  But  his  Oriental  brother  either  suppresses 
or  idealizes  detail,  — steeps  his  distances  in  mist, 
bands  his  landscapes  with  cloud,  makes  of  his  experi- 
ence a memor}'  in  which  only  the  strange  and  the 
beautiful  survive,  with  their  sensations.  He  sur- 
passes imagination,  excites  it,  leaves  it  hungry  with 


OF  A DANCING-GIRL. 


635 


the  hunger  of  charm  perceived  in  glimpses  only. 
Nevertheless,  in  such  glimpses  be  is  able  to  convey 
the  feeling  of  a time,  the  character  of  a place,  after  a 
fashion  that  seems  magical.  He  is  a painter  of  recol- 
lections and  of  sensations  rather  than  of  cleai’-cut 
realities ; and  in  this  lies  the  secret  of  his  amazing 
power, — a power  not  to  be  appreciated  by  those 
who  have  never  witnessed  the  scenes  of  his  inspira- 
tion. Pie  is  above  all  things  impersonal.  His  hu- 
man figures  are  devoid  of  all  individuality  ; yet  they 
have  inimitable  merit  as  types  embodying  the  char- 
acteristics of  a class:  the  childish  curiosity  of  the 
peasant,  the  shyness  of  the  maiden,  the  fascination 
of  the  joro,  the  self-consciousness  of  the  samurai,  the 
funny,  placid  prettiness  of  the  child,  the  resigned 
gentleness  of  age.  Travel  and  observation  were  the 
influences  which  developed  this  art ; it  was  never  a 
growth  of  studios. 

A great  many  years  ago,  a young  art  student  was 
traveling  on  foot  from  Saikyo  to  Yedo,  over  the 
mountains.  Tlie  roads  then  were  few  and  bad,  and 
travel  was  so  difficult  compared  to  what  it  is  now 
that  a proverb  was  current,  Kawai  ko  wa  tahi  wo  sase 
(A  pet  child  should  be  made  to  travel).  But  the 
land  was  what  it  is  to-day.  Tliere  were  the  same  for- 
ests of  cedar  and  of  pine,  the  same  groves  of  bamboo, 
the  same  peaked  villages  with  roofs  of  thatch,  the 
same  terraced  rice-fields  dotted  with  the  great  yellow 
straw  hats  of  peasants  bending  in  the  slime.  From 
the  wayside,  the  same  statues  of  Jizo  smiled  upon 
the  same  pilgrim  figures  passing  to  the  same  temples  ; 
and  then,  as  now,  of  summer  days,  one  might  see 

VOL.  II. 


536  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


naked  brown  children  laughing  in  all  the  shallow 
rivers,  and  all  the  rivers  laughing  to  the  sun. 

The  young  art  student,  however,  was  no  kawai  ko  : 
he  had  already  traveled  a great  deal,  was  inured  to 
hard  fare  and  rough  lodging,  and  accustomed  to  make 
the  best  of  every  situation.  But  upon  this  journey 
he  found  himself,  one  evening  after  sunset,  in  a 
region  where  it  seemed  possible  to  obtain  neither 
fare  nor  lodging  of  any  sort,  — out  of  sight  of  culti- 
vated land.  While  attempting  a short  cut  over  a 
range  to  reach  some  village,  he  had  lost  his  way. 

There  was  no  moon,  and  pine  shadows  made  black- 
ness all  around  him.  The  district  into  which  he  had 
wandered  seemed  utterly  wild ; thei-e  were  no  sounds 
but  the  humming  of  the  wind  in  the  pine-needles, 
and  an  infinite  tinkling  of  bell-insects.  He  stumbled 
on,  hoping  to  gain  some  river  bank,  which  he  could 
follow  to  a settlement.  At  last  a stream  abruptly 
crossed  his  way  ; but  it  proved  to  be  a swift  torrent 
pouring  into  a gorge  between  precipices.  Obliged  to 
retrace  his  steps,  he  resolved  to  climb  to  the  nearest 
summit,  whence  he  might  be  able  to  discern  some 
sign  of  human  life ; but  on  reaching  it  he  could  see 
about  him  only  a heaping  of  hills. 

He  had  almost  resigned  himself  to  passing  the 
night  under  the  stars,  when  he  perceived,  at  some 
distance  down  the  farther  slope  of  the  hill  he  had 
ascended,  a single  thin  yellow  ray  of  light,  evidently 
issuing  from  some  dwelling.  He  made  his  wa)'  to- 
wards it,  and  soon  disceimed  a small  cottage,  appar- 
ently a peasant’s  home.  The  light  he  had  seen  still 
sti’eamed  from  it,  thi’ough  a chink  in  the  closed 
storm-doors.  He  hastened  forward,  and  knocked  at 
the  entrance. 


OF  A DANCING-GIRL. 


n. 

Not  until  he  had  knocked  and  called  several  times 
did  he  hear  any  stir  within ; then  a woman’s  voice 
asked  what  was  wanted.  The  voice  was  remarka- 
bly sweet,  and  the  speech  of  the  unseen  questioner 
surprised  him,  for  she  spoke  in  the  cultivated  idiom 
of  the  capital.  He  responded  that  he  was  a student, 
who  had  lost  his  way  in  the  mountains;  that  he 
wished,  if  possible,  to  obtain  food  and  lodging  for 
the  night;  and  that  if  this  could  not  be  given,  he 
would  feel  very  grateful  for  information  how  to  reach 
the  nearest  village,  — adding  that  he  had  means 
enough  to  pay  for  the  services  of  a guide.  The  voice, 
in  return,  asked  several  other  questions,  indicating 
extreme  surprise  that  any  one  could  have  reached 
the  dwelling  from  the  direction  he  had  taken.  But 
his  answers  evidently  allayed  suspicion,  for  the  in- 
mate exclaimed : “ I will  come  in  a moment.  It 
would  be  difficult  for  you  to  reach  any  village  to- 
night ; and  the  path  is  dangerous.” 

After  a brief  delay  the  storm-doors  were  pushed 
open,  and  a woman  appeared  with  a paper  lantern, 
which  she  so  held  as  to  illuminate  the  stranger's 
face,  while  her  own  remained  in  shadow.  She  scru- 
tinized him  in  silence,  then  said  briefly,  “ Wait ; I 
will  bring  water.”  She  fetched  a wash-basin,  set  it 
upon  the  doorstep,  and  offered  the  guest  a towel. 
He  removed  his  sandals,  washed  from  his  feet  the 
dust  of  travel,  and  was  shown  into  a neat  room  which 
appeared  to  occupy  the*  whole  interior,  except  a 
small  boarded  space  at  the  rear,  used  as  a kitchen. 
A cotton  zabuton  was  laid  for  him  to  kneel  upon, 
and  a brazier  set  before  him. 


538  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


It  was  only  then  that  he  had  a good  opportunity 
of  observing  his  hostess,  and  he  was  startled  by  the 
delicacy  and  beauty  of  her  features.  Sbe  might 
have  been  three  or  four  years  older  than  he,  but  was 
still  in  the  bloom  of  youth.  Certainly  she  was  not 
a peasant  girl.  In  the  same  singularly  sweet  voice 
she  said  to  him  : “ I am  now  alone,  and  I never  re- 
ceive guests  here.  But  I am  sure  it  would  be  dan- 
gerous for  you  to  travel  farther  to-night.  There  are 
some  peasants  in  the  neighborhood,  but  you  cannot 
find  your  way  to  them  in  the  dark  without  a guide. 
So  I can  let  you  stay  here  until  morning.  You  will 
not  be  comfortable,  but  I can  give  you  a bed.  And 
I suppose  you  are  hungry.  There  is  only  some 
shojin-ryori,i — not  at  all  good,  but  you  are  welcome 
to  it.” 

The  traveler  was  quite  hungry,  and  only  too  glad 
of  the  offer.  The  young  woman  kindled  a little  fire, 
prepared  a few  dishes  in  silence,  — stewed  leaves 
of  na,  some  aburag^,  some  kampyo,  and  a bowl  of 
coar.se  rice,  — and  quicklj' set  the  meal  before  him, 
apologizing  for  its  quality.  But  during  his  repast 
she  spoke  scarcely  at  all,  and  her  reserved  manner 
embarrassed  him.  As  she  answered  the  few  ques- 
tions he  ventured  upon  merely  by  a bow  or  by  a 
solitary  word,  he  soon  refrained  from  attempting  to 
press  the  conversation. 

Meanwhile,  he  had  observed  that  the  small  house 
was  spotlessly  clean,  and  the  utensils  in  which  his 
food  was  served  were  immaculate.  The  few  cheajD 
objects  in  the  apartment  were  pretty.  The  fusuma 
of  the  oshiire  and  zendana^  were  of  white  paper 

1 Buddhist  food,  containing  no  animal  substance.  Some  kinds  of 
shojin-ryori  are  quite  appetizing. 

* The  terms  oshiire  and  zendana  might  be  partly  rendered  by 


OF  A DANCING-GIRL. 


539 


only,  but  bad  been  decorated  with  large  Chinese 
characters  exquisitely  written,  characters  suggesting, 
according  to  the  law  of  such  decoration,  the  favorite 
themes  of  the  poet  and  artist : Spring  Flowers, 
iMountain  and  Sea,  Summer  Rain,  Sky  and  Stars, 
Autumn  Moon,  River  Water,  Autumn  Breeze.  At 
one  side  of  the  apartment  stood  a kind  of  low  altar, 
supporting  a butsudan,  whose  tiny  lacquered  doors, 
left  open,  showed  a mortuary  tablet  within,  before 
which  a lamp  was  bui-ning  between  offerings  of  wild- 
flowers.  And  above  this  household  shrine  hung  a 
picture  of  more  than  common  merit,  representing 
the  Goddess  of  Mercy,  wearing  the  moon  for  her 
aureole. 

As  the  student  ended  his  little  meal  the  young 
woman  observed:  “I  cannot  offer  you  a good  bed, 
and  there  is  only  a paper  mosquito-curtain.  The 
bed  and  the  curtain  are  mine,  but  to-night  I have 
many  things  to  do,  and  will  have  no  time  to  sleep; 
therefore  I beg  you  will  trj'  to  rest,  though  I am  not 
able  to  make  you  comfortable.” 

He  then  understood  that  she  was,  for  some  strange 
reason,  entirely  alone,  and  was  voluntarily  giving  up 
her  only  bed  to  him  upon  a kindly  pretext.  He  pro- 
tested honestly  against  such  an  excess  of  hospitality, 
and  assured  her  that  he  could  sleep  quite  soundly  any- 
where on  the  floor,  and  did  not  care  about  the  mos- 
quitoes. But  she  replied,  in  the  tone  of  an  elder 
sister,  that  he  must  obey  her  wishes.  She  really  had 
something  to  do,  and  she  desired  to  be  left  by  herself 
as  soon  as  possible ; therefore,  understanding  him  to 
be  a gentleman,  she  expected  he  would  suffer  her  to 

“ wardrohe  ” and  “ cupboard.”  The  fusuma  are  sliding  screens  serv- 
ing as  doors. 


540  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


arrange  matters  in  her  own  way.  To  this  he  could 
offer  no  objection,  as  there  was  but  one  I’oom.  She 
spread  the  mattress  on  the  floor,  fetched  a wooden 
pillow,  suspended  her  paper  mosquito  - curtain,  un- 
folded a large  screen  on  the  side  of  the  bed  toward 
the  butsudan,  and  then  bade  him  good-night  in  a 
manner  that  assured  him  she  wished  him  to  retire  at 
once ; which  he  did,  not  without  some  reluctance  at 
the  thought  of  all  the  trouble  he  had  unintentionally 
caused  her. 

m. 

Unwilling  as  the  young  traveler  felt  to  accept  a 
kindness  involving  the  sacrifice  of  another’s  rejDose, 
he  found  the  bed  more  than  comfortable.  He  was 
very  tired,  and  had  scarcely  laid  his  head  upon  the 
wooden  pillow  before  he  forgot  everything  in  sleep. 

Yet  only  a little  while  seemed  to  have  passed 
when  he  was  awakened  by  a singular  sound.  It  was 
certainly  the  sound  of  feet,  but  not  of  feet  walking 
softly.  It  seemed  rather  the  sound  of  feet  in  rapid 
motion,  as  of  excitement.  Then  it  occurred  to  him 
that  I’obbers  might  have  entered  the  house.  As  for 
himself,  he  had  little  to  fear  because  he  had  little  to 
lose.  His  anxiety  was  chiefly  for  the  kind  person 
who  had  granted  him  hospitality.  Into  each  side 
of  the  paper  mosquito -curtain  a small  square  of 
brown  netting  had  been  fitted,  like  a little  window, 
and  through  one  of  these  he  tried  to  look ; but  the 
high  screen  stood  between  him  and  whatever  was 
going  on.  He  thought  of  calling,  but  this  impulse 
was  checked  by  the  reflection  that  in  case  of  real 
danger  it  would  be  both  useless  and  imprudent  to 
announce  his  presence  before  understanding  the  situ- 
ation. The  sounds  which  had  made  him  uneasy  con- 


OF  A DANCING-GIRL. 


541 


tinned,  and  were  more  and  more  mysterious.  He 
resolved  to  prepare  for  the  worst,  and  to  risk  his  life, 
if  necessary,  in  order  to  defend  his  young  hostess. 
Hastily  girding  up  his  robes,  he  slipped  noiselessly 
from  under  the  paper  curtain,  crept  to  the  edge  of 
the  screen,  and  peeped.  What  he  saw  astonished 
him  extremely. 

Before  her  illuminated  butsudan  the  young  woman, 
magnificently  attired,  was  dancing  all  alone.  Her 
costume  he  recognized  as  that  of  a shirabyoshi, 
though  much  richer  than  any  he  had  ever  seen  worn 
by  a professional  dancer.  Marvelously  enhanced  by 
it,  her  beauty,  in  that  lonely  time  and  place,  ap- 
peared almost  supernatural ; but  what  seemed  to  him 
even  more  wonderful  was  her  dancing.  For  an  in- 
stant he  felt  the  tingling  of  a weird  doubt.  The 
superstitions  of  peasants,  the  legends  of  Fox-women, 
flashed  before  his  imagination ; but  the  sight  of  the 
Buddhist  shrine,  of  the  sacred  picture,  dissipated  the 
fancy,  and  shamed  him  for  the  folly  of  it.  At  the 
same  time  he  became  conscious  that  he  was  watching 
something  she  had  not  wished  him  to  see,  and  that  it 
was  his  duty,  as  her  guest,  to  return  at  once  behind 
the  screen ; but  the  spectacle  fascinated  him.  He 
felt,  with  not  less  pleasure  than  amazement,  that  he 
was  looking  upon  the  most  accomplished  dancer  he 
had  ever  seen ; and  the  more  he  watched,  the  more 
the  witchery  of  her  grace  grew  upon  him.  Suddenly 
she  paused,  panting,  unfastened  her  girdle,  turned  in 
the  act  of  doffing  her  upper  robe,  and  started  vio- 
lently as  her  eyes  encountered  his  own. 

He  tried  at  once  to  excuse  himself  to  her.  He 
said  he  had  been  suddenly  awakened  by  the  sound  of 
quick  feet,  which  sound  had  caused  him  some  un- 


642  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


easiness,  chiefly  for  her  sake,  because  of  the  lateness 
of  the  hour  and  the  lonesomeness  of  the  place.  Then 
he  confessed  his  surprise  at  what  he  had  seen,  and 
spoke  of  the  manner  in  v/hich  it  had  attracted  him. 
“ I beg  you,”  lie  continued,  “ to  forgive  my  curiosity, 
for  I cannot  help  wondering  who -you  are,  and  how 
you  could  have  become  so  marvelous  a dancer.  All 
the  dancers  of  Saikyo  I have  seen,  yet  I have  never 
seen  among  the  most  celebrated  of  them  a girl  who 
could  dance  like  you  ; and  once  I had  begun  to  watch 
you,  I could  not  take  away  my  eyes.” 

At  first  she  had  seemed  angry,  but  before  he  had 
ceased  to  speak  her  expression  changed.  She  smiled, 
and  seated  herself  before  him.  “Xo,  I am  not  angry 
with  you,”  she  said.  “■  I am  only  sorry  that  you 
should  have  watched  me,  for  I am  sure  you  must 
have  thought  me  mad  when  you  saw  me  dancing  that 
■way,  all  by  myself ; and  now  I must  teU  you  the 
meaning  of  ■what  you  have  seen.” 

So  she  related  her  story.  Her  name  he  remem- 
bered to  have  heard  as  a boy,  — her  professional 
name,  the  name  of  the  most  famous  of  shirabyoshi, 
the  darling  of  the  capital,  who,  in  the  zenith  of  her 
fame  and  beauty,  had  suddenly  vanished  from  public 
life,  none  knew  whither  or  why.  She  had  fled  from 
wealth  and  fortune  with  a youth  who  loved  her. 
He  was  poor,  but  between  them  they  possessed 
enough  means  to  live  simply  and  happily  in  the 
country.  They  built  a little  house  in  the  mountains, 
and  there  for  a number  of  years  they  existed  only 
for  each  other.  He  adored  her.  One  of  his  greatest 
pleasures  was  to  see  her  dance.  Each  evening  he 
would  play  some  favorite  melody,  and  she  would 
dance  for  him.  But  one  long  cold  winter  he  fell  sick, 


OF  A DANCING-GIRL. 


543 


and,  in  spite  of  her  tender  nursing,  died.  Since  then 
she  had  lived  alone  with  the  memory  of  him,  per- 
forming all  those  small  rites  of  love  and  homage 
with  which  the  dead  are  honored.  Daily  before  his 
tablet  she  placed  the  customary  offerings,  and  nightly 
danced  to  please  him,  as  of  old.  And  this  was  the 
explanation  of  what  the  young  traveler  had  seen.  It 
was  indeed  rude,  she  continued,  to  have  awakened 
her  tired  guest ; but  she  bad  waited  until  she  thought 
him  soundly  sleeping,  and  then  she  had  tried  to  dance 
very,  very  lightly.  So  she  hoped  he  would  pardon 
her  for  having  unintentionally  disturbed  him. 

When  she  had  told  him  all,  she  made  ready  a little 
tea,  which  they  drank  together  ; then  she  entreated 
him  so  plaintively  to  please  her  by  trying  to  sleep 
again  that  he  found  himself  obliged  to  go  back,  with 
many  sincere  apologies,  under  the  paper  mosquito- 
curtain. 

lie  slept  well  and  long;  the  sun  was  high  before 
he  woke.  On  rising,  he  found  prepared  for  him  a 
meal  as  simple  as  that  of  the  evening  before,  and  he 
felt  hungry.  Nevertheless  he  ate  sparingly,  fearing 
the  young  woman  might  have  stinted  herself  in  thus 
providing  for  him  ; and  then  he  made  ready  to  de- 
part. Hut  when  he  wanted  to  pay  her  for  what  he 
had  received,  and  for  all  the  trouble  he  had  given 
her,  she  refused  to  take  anything  from  him,  saying: 
“ What  I had  to  give  was  not  worth  money,  and 
what  I did  was  done  for  kindness  alone.  So  I pray 
that  you  will  try  to  forget  the  discomfort  you  suf- 
fered here,  and  will  remember  only  the  good-will  of 
one  who  had  nothing  to  offer.” 

He  still  endeavored  to  induce  her  to  accept  some- 
thing ; but  at  last,  finding  that  his  insistence  only 


544  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


gave  her  pain,  he  took  leave  of  her  with  such  words 
as  he  could  find  to  express  his  gratitude,  and  not 
witliout  a secret  regret,  for  her  beauty  and  her  gen- 
tleness had  charmed  him  more  than  he  would  have 
liked  to  acknowledge  to  any  but  herself.  She  indi- 
cated to  him  the  path  to  follow,  and  watched  him 
descend  the  mountain  until  he  had  passed  from  sight. 
An  hour  later  he  found  himself  upon  a highway  with 
which  he  was  familiar.  Then  a sudden  remorse 
touched  him  : he  had  forgotten  to  tell  her  his  name  : 
For  an  instant  he  hesitated  ; then  said  to  himself, 
“ What  matters  it?  I shall  be  always  poor.”  And 
he  went  on. 

IV. 

Many  years  passed  by,  and  many  fashions  with 
them  ; and  the  painter  became  old.  But  ere  becom- 
ing old  he  had  become  famous.  Princes,  charmed 
by  the  wonder  of  his  work,  had  vied  with  one  another 
in  giving  him  patronage  ; so  that  he  grew  rich,  and 
possessed  a beautiful  dwelling  of  his  own  in  the  City 
of  the  Emperors.  Young  artists  fi’om  many  prov- 
inces were  his  pupils,  and  lived  with  him,  serving 
him  in  all  things  while  receiving  his  instruction;  and 
his  name  was  known  throughout  the  land. 

Now,  there  came  one  day  to  his  house  an  old  wo- 
man, who  asked  to  speak  with  him.  The  servants, 
seeing  that  she  was  meanly  dressed  and  of  miserable 
appearance,  took  her  to  be  some  common  beggar,  and 
questioned  her  roughly.  But  when  she  answered  : 
“ I can  tell  to  no  one  except  your  master  whj'^  I have 
come,”  they  believed  her  mad,  and  deceived  her,  sa}'- 
ing:  “ He  is  not  now  in  Saikyo,  nor  do  w^e  know  how 
soon  he  will  return.” 

But  the  old  woman  came  again  and  again,  — day 


OF  A DANCING-GIRL. 


545 


after  day,  and  week  after  week,  — each  time  being 
told  something  that  was  not  true : “ To-day  he  is 
ill,”  or,  “ To-day  he  is  very  busy,”  or,  “ To-day  he 
has  much  company,  and  therefore  cannot  see  you.” 
Nevertheless  she  continued  to  come,  always  at  the 
same  hour  each  day,  and  always  carrying  a bundle 
wrapped  in  a ragged  covering  ; and  the  servants  at 
last  thought  it  were  best  to  speak  to  their  master 
about  her.  So  they  said  to  him : “ There  is  a very 
old  woman,  whom  we  take  to  be  a beggar,  at  our 
lord’s  gate.  More  than  fifty  times  she  has  come, 
asking  to  see  our  lord,  and  refusing  to  tell  us  why,  — 
saying  that  she  can  tell  her  wishes  only  to  our  lord. 
And  we  have  tried  to  discourage  her,  as  she  seemed, 
to  be  mad  ; but  she  always  comes.  Therefore  we 
have  presumed  to  mention  the  matter  to  our  lord,  in 
order  that  we  may  learn  what  is  to  be  done  here- 
after.” 

Then  the  ^Master  answered  sharply : “ Why  did 
none  of  you  tell  me  of  this  before  ? ” and  went  out 
himself  to  the  gate,  and  spoke  very  kindly  to  the 
woman,  remembering  how  he  also  had  been  poor. 
And  he  asked  her  if  she  desired  alms  of  him. 

But  she  answered  that  she  had  no  need  of  money 
or  of  food,  and  only  desired  that  he  woiild  paint  for 
her  a picture.  He  wondered  at  her  wish,  and  bade 
her  enter  his  house.  So  she  entered  into  the  vesti- 
bule, and,  kneeling  there,  began  to  untie  the  knots  of 
the  bundle  she  had  brought  with  her.  When  she  had 
unwrapped  it,  the  painter  perceived  curious  rich 
quaint  garments  of  silk  broidered  with  designs  in 
gold,  yet  much  frayed  and  discolored  by  wear  and 
time,  — the  wreck  of  a wonderful  costume  of  other 
days,  the  attire  of  a shirabyoshi. 


546  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


While  the  old  woman  unfolded  the  garments  one 
by  one,  and  tried  to  smooth  them  with  her  trem- 
bling fingers,  a inemoiy  stirred  in  the  iSlaster’s  brain, 
thrilled  dimly  there  a little  space,  then  suddenly 
lighted  up.  In  that  soft  shock  of  recollection,  he 
saw  again  the  lonely  mountain  dwelling  in  which  he 
had  received  unremunerated  hosjjitality,  — • the  tiny 
loom  prepai’ed  for  his  rest,  the  paper  mosquito-cur- 
tain, the  faintly  burning  lamp  before  the  Buddhist 
shrine,  the  strange  beauty  of  one  dancing  there  alone 
in  the  dead  of  the  night.  Then,  to  the  astonishment 
of  the  aged  visitor,  he,  the  favored  of  princes,  bowed 
low  before  her,  and  said : “ Pardon  my  rudeness  in 
having  forgotten  your  face  for  a moment ; but  it  is 
more  than  forty  years  since  we  last  saw  each  other. 
Now  I remember  you  well.  You  received  me  once 
at  your  house.  You  gave  up  to  me  the  only  bed 
you  had.  I saw  you  dance,  and  you  told  me  all 
your  story.  You  had  been  a shirabydshi,  and  I have 
not  forgotten  your  name.” 

He  uttered  it.  She,  astonished  and  confused,  could 
not  at  first  reply  to  him,  for  she  was  old  and  had  suf- 
fered much,  and  her  memory  had  begun  to  fail.  But 
he  spoke  more  and  more  kindly  to  her,  and  reminded 
her  of  many  things  which  she  had  told  him,  and 
described  to  her  the  house  in  which  she  had  lived 
alone,  so  that  at  last  she  also  remembered;  and  she 
answered,  with  tears  of  pleasure  : “ Surely  the  Divine 
One  who  looketh  down  above  the  sound  of  prayer  has 
guided  me.  But  when  my  unworthy  home  was  hon- 
ored by  the  visit  of  the  august  IMaster,  I was  not  as 
I now  am.  And  it  seems  to  me  like  a miracle  of  our 
Lord  Buddha  that  the  Master  should  remember  me.” 
Then  she  related  the  rest  of  her  simple  story.  In 


OF  A DANCING-GIRL. 


547 


the  course  of  years,  she  had  become,  through  pov- 
ert}’,  obliged  to  part  ■with  her  little  house ; and  in 
her  old  age  she  had  returned  alone  to  the  great  city, 
in  which  her  name  had  longr  been  forgotten.  It  had 
caused  her  much  pain  to  lose  her  home ; but  it 
grieved  her  still  more  that,  in  becoming  weak  and 
old,  she  could  no  longer  dance  each  evening  before 
the  butsudan,  to  please  the  spirit  of  the  dead  whom 
she  had  loved.  Therefore  she  wanted  to  have  a pic- 
ture of  herself  painted,  in  the  costume  and  the  atti- 
tude of  the  dance,  that  she  might  suspend  it  before 
the  butsudan.  For  this  she  had  prayed  earnestly 
to  Kwannon.  And  she  had  sought  out  the  Master 
because  of  his  fame  as  a painter,  since  she  desired,  for 
the  sake  of  the  dead,  no  common  work,  but  a picture 
painted  with  great  skill ; and  she  had  brought  her 
dancing  attire,  hoping  that  the  Master  might  be  will- 
ing to  paint  her  therein. 

He  listened  to  all  with  a kindly  smile,  and  answered 
her  : “ It  will  be  only  a pleasure  for  me  to  paint  the 
picture  which  you  want.  This  day  I have  something 
to  finish  which  cannot  be  delayed.  But  if  you  will 
come  here  to-morrow,  I will  paint  you  exactly  as  you 
wish,  and  as  well  as  I am  able.” 

But  she  said : “ I have  not  yet  told  to  the  IMaster 
the  thing  which  most  troubles  me.  And  it  is  this,  — 
that  I can  offer  in  return  for  so  great  a favor  nothing 
except  these  dancer’s  clothes  ; and  they  are  of  no  value 
in  themselves,  though  they  were  costly  once.  Still, 
I hoped  the  Master  might  be  willing  to  take  them, 
seeing  they  have  become  curious ; for  there  are  no 
more  shirabyoslii,  and  the  maiko  of  these  times  wear 
no  such  robes.” 

“ Of  that  matter,”  the  good  painter  exclaimed. 


548  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


“ you  must  not  think  at  all ! No  ; I am  glad  to  have 
this  present  chance  of  paying  a small  part  of  my  old 
debt  to  you.  So  to-morrow  I will  paint  you  just  as 
you  wish.” 

She  prostrated  herself  thrice  before  him,  uttering 
thanks,  and  then  said,  “ Let  my  lord  pardon,  though 
I have  yet  something  more  to  say.  For  I do  not  wish 
that  he  should  paint  me  as  I now  am,  but  only  as  I 
used  to  be  when  I was  young,  as  my  lord  knew  me.” 

He  said  : “ I remember  well.  You  were  very  beau- 
tiful.” 

Her  wrinkled  features  lighted  up  with  pleasure,  as 
she  bowed  her  thanks  to  him  for  those  words.  And 
she  exclaimed : “ Then  indeed  all  that  I hoped  and 
prayed  for  may  be  done  ! Since  he  thus  remembers 
my  poor  youth,  I beseech  my  lord  to  paint  me,  not  as 
I now  am,  but  as  he  saw  me  when  I was  not  old  and, 
as  it  has  pleased  him  generously  to  say,  not  uncomely. 

0 Master,  make  me  young  again ! Make  me  seem 
beautiful  that  I may  seem  beautiful  to  the  soul  of 
him  for  whose  sake  I,  the  unworthy,  beseech  this  I 
He  will  see  the  Master’s  work : he  will  forgive  me 
that  I can  no  longer  dance.” 

Once  more  the  Master  bade  her  have  no  anxiety, 
and  said : “ Come  to-morrow,  and  I will  paint  you. 

1 will  make  a picture  of  you  just  as  you  were  when  I 
saw  you,  a young  and  beautiful  shirabyoshi,  and  I 
will  paint  it  as  carefully  and  as  skillfully  as  if  I were 
painting  the  pictui’e  of  the  richest  person  in  the  laud. 
Never  doubt,  but  come.” 


V. 

So  the  aged  dancer  came  at  the  appointed  hour ; 
and  upon  soft  white  silk  the  artist  painted  a picture 


OF  A DANCING-GIRL. 


549 


of  her.  Yet  not  a picture  of  her  as  she  seemed  to 
the  Master’s  pupils,  but  the  memory  of  her  as  she  had 
been  in  the  days  of  her  youth,  bright-eyed  as  a bird, 
lithe  as  a bamboo,  dazzling  as  a tennin  ^ in  her  raiment 
of  silk  and  gold.  Under  the  magic  of  the  Mastery’s 
brush,  the  vanished  grace  returned,  the  faded  beauty 
bloomed  again.  When  the  kakemono  had  been  fin- 
ished, and  stamped  with  his  seal,  he  mounted  it  richly 
upon  silken  cloth,  and  fixed  to  it  rollers  of  cedar  with 
ivory  weights,  and  a silken  cord  by  which  to  hang  it ; 
and  he  placed  it  in  a little  box  of  white  wood,  and  so 
gave  it  to  the  shirabyoshi.  And  he  would  also  have 
presented  her  with  a gift  of  moneys.  But  though  he 
pressed  her  earnestly,  he  could  not  persuade  her  to 
acce^Jt  his  help.  “■  Nay%”  she  made  answer,  with 
tears,  “indeed  I need  nothing.  The  picture  only  I 
desired.  For  that  I prayed  ; and  now  my  prayer  has 
been  answered,  and  I know  that  I never  can  wish  for 
anything  more  in  this  life,  and  that  if  I come  to  die 
thus  desiring  nothing,  to  enter  upon  the  way  of  Bud- 
dha w’ill  not  be  difficult.  One  thought  alone  causes 
me  sorrow,  — that  I have  nothing  to  offer  to  the 
]\Iaster  but  this  dancer’s  apparel,  which  is  indeed  of 
little  worth,  though  I beseech  him  to  accept  it ; and 
I will  pray  each  day  that  his  future  life  may  be  a life 
of  happiness,  because  of  the  wondrous  kindness  which 
he  has  done  me.” 

“ Nay,”  protested  the  painter,  smiling,  “ what  is  it 
that  I have  done?  Truly  nothing.  As  for  the  dancer’s 
garments,  I wdll  accept  them,  if  that  can  make  you 
more  happy.  They  wdll  bring  back  pleasant  memo- 
ries of  the  night  I passed  in  your  home,  when  you 
gave  up  all  your  comforts  for  my  unworthy  sake,  and 
1 Tennin,  a “ Sky-Maiden,”  a Buddhist  angel. 


550  GiniPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


yet  would  not  suffer  me  to  pay  for  that  which  I used ; 
and  for  that  kindness  I hold  myself  to  be  still  in  your 
debt.  But  now  tell  me  where  you  live,  so  that  I 
may  see  the  picture  in  its  place.”  For  he  had  re- 
solved within  himself  to  place  her  beyond  the  reach 
of  want. 

But  she  excused  herself  with  humble  words,  and 
would  not  tell  him,  saying  that  her  dwelling-place 
was  too  mean  to  be  looked  upon  by  such  as  he ; and 
then,  with  many  prostrations,  she  thanked  him  again 
and  again,  and  went  away  with  her  treasure,  weeping 
for  joy. 

Then  the  Master  called  to  one  of  his  pupils  : “ Go 
quickly  after  that  woman,  but  so  that  she  does  not 
know  herself  followed,  and  bring  me  word  where 
she  lives.”  So  the  young  man  followed  her,  unper- 
ceived. 

He  remained  long  away,  and  when  he  returned  he 
laughed  in  the  manner  of  one  obliged  to  say  some- 
thing which  it  is  not  pleasant  to  hear,  and  he  said  : 
“ That  woman,  O IMaster,  I followed  out  of  the  city 
to  the  dry  bed  of  the  river,  near  to  the  place  where 
criminals  are  executed.  There  I saw  a hut  such  as 
an  Eta  might  dwell  in,  and  that  is  w'here  she  lives. 
A forsaken  and  filthy  place,  O Master  ! ” 

“ Nevertheless,”  the  painter  replied,  “ to-morrow 
you  will  take  me  to  that  forsaken  and  filthy  place. 
What  time  I live  she  shall  not  suffer  for  food  or 
clothing  or  comfort.” 

o 

And  as  all  wondered,  he  told  them  the  story  of  the 
shirabyoshi,  after  which  it  did  not  seem  to  them  that 
his  words  were  strange. 


OF  A DANCING-GIRL. 


551 


VI. 

On  the  morning  of  the  day  following,  an  hour  after 
sunrise,  the  Master  and  his  pupil  took  their  way  to 
the  dry  bed  of  the  river,  beyond  the  verge  of  the  city, 
to  the  place  of  outcasts. 

The  entrance  of  the  little  dwelling  they  found 
closed  by  a single  shutter,  upon  wliich  the  Master 
tapped  many  times  without  evoking  a response. 
Then,  finding  the  shutter  unfastened  from  within,  he 
pushed  it  slightly  aside,  and  called  through  the  aper- 
ture. None  replied,  and  he  decided  to  enter.  Simul- 
taneously, with  extraordinary  vividness,  there  thrilled 
back  to  him  the  sensation  of  the  very  instant  when, 
as  a tired  lad,  he  stood  pleading  for  admission  to  the 
lonesome  little  cottage  among  the  hills. 

Entering  alone  softly,  he  perceived  that  the  woman 
was  lying  there,  wrapped  in  a single  thin  and  tattered 
futon,  seemingly  asleep.  On  a rude  shelf  he  recog- 
nized the  butsudan  of  forty  years  before,  with  its 
tablet,  and  now,  as  then,  a tiny  lamp  was  burning  in 
front  of  the  kaimyo.  The  kakemono  of  the  Goddess 
of  Mercy  with  her  lunar  aureole  was  gone,  but  on 
the  wall  facing  the  shrine  he  beheld  his  own  dainty 
gift  suspended,  and  an  ofuda  beneath  it,  — an  ofuda 
of  Hito-koto-Kwannon,  ^ — that  Kwannon  unto  whom 
it  is  unlawful  to  pray  more  than  once,  as  she  answers 
but  a single  prayer.  There  was  little  else  in  the 
desolate  dwelling ; only  the  garments  of  a female 
pilgrim,  and  a mendicant’s  staff  and  bowl. 

But  the  Master  did  not  pause  to  look  at  these 
things,  for  he  desired  to  awaken  and  to  gladden  the 

* Her  shrine  is  at  Nara,  — not  far  from  the  temple  of  the  giant 
Buddha. 


VOL.  n. 


552  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


sleeper,  and  he  called  her  name  cheerily  twice  and 
thrice. 

Then  suddenly  he  saw  that  she  was  dead,  and  he 
wondered  while  he  gazed  upon  her  face,  for  it  seemed 
less  old.  A vague  sweetness,  like  a ghost  of  youth,  had 
returned  to  it ; the  lines  of  sorrow  had  been  softened, 
the  wrinkles  strangely  smoothed,  by  the  touch  of  a 
phantom  Master  mightier  than  he. 


xxm 

FROM  HOKI  to  OKI 


I. 

I RESOLVED  to  go  to  Oki. 

Not  even  a missionary  had  ever  been  to  Oki,  and 
its  shores  had  never  been  seen  by  European  eyes, 
except  on  those  rare  occasions  when  men-of-war 
steamed  by  them,  cruising  about  the  Japanese  Sea. 
This  alone  would  have  been  a sufficient  reason  for 
going  there ; but  a stronger  one  was  furnished  for 
me  by  the  ignorance  of  the  Japanese  themselves 
about  Oki.  Excepting  the  far-away  Riu-Kiu,  or 
Loo-Choo  Islands,  inhabited  by  a somewhat  different 
race  with  a different  language,  the  least-known  por- 
tion of  the  Japanese  Empire  is  perhaps  Oki.  Since 
it  belongs  to  the  same  prefectural  district  as  Izumo, 
each  new  governor  of  Shimane-Ken  is  supposed  to 
pay  one  visit  to  Oki  after  his  inauguration  ; and  the 
chief  of  police  of  the  province  sometimes  goes  there 
upon  a tour  of  inspection.  There  are  also  some  mer- 
cantile houses  in  Matsue  and  in  other  cities  which 
send  a commercial  traveler  to  Oki  once  a year.  Fur- 
thermore, there  is  quite  a large  trade  with  Oki,  — 
almost  all  carried  on  by  small  sailing-vessels.  But 
such  official  and  commercial  communications  have 
not  been  of  a nature  to  make  Oki  much  better 
known  to-day  than  in  the  mediaeval  period  of  Japa- 
nese histoiy.  There  are  still  current  among  the 
common  people  of  the  west  coast  extraordinary  sto* 


654  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


ries  of  Oki  much  like  those  about  that  fabulous  Isle 
of  Women,  which  figures  so  largely  in  the  imagina- 
tive literature  of  various  Oriental  races.  According 
to  these  old  legends,  the  moral  notions  of  the  people 
of  Oki  were  extremely  fantastic : the  most  rigid  as- 
cetic could  not  dwell  there  and  maintain  his  indiffer- 
ence to  earthly  pleasures ; and,  however  wealthy  at 
his  arrival,  the  visiting  stranger  must  soon  return  to 
his  native  land  naked  and  poor,  because  of  the  se- 
ductions of  women.  I had  quite  sufficient  experi- 
ences of  travel  in  queer  countries  to  feel  certain  that 
all  these  marvelous  stories  signified  nothing  beyond 
the  bare  fact  that  Oki  was  a terra  incognita;  and 
I even  felt  inclined  to  believe  that  the  average 
morals  of  the  people  of  Oki  — judging  by  those  of 
the  common  folk  of  the  western  provinces  — must 
be  very  much  better  than  the  morals  of  our  ignorant 
classes  at  home. 

Which  I subsequently  ascertained  to  be  the  case. 

For  some  time  I could  find  no  one  among  my  Jap- 
anese acquaintances  to  give  me  any  in foi'mation  about 
Oki,  beyond  the  fact  that  in  ancient  times  it  had 
been  a place  of  banishment  for  the  Emperors  Go- 
Daigo  and  Go-Toba,  dethroned  by  military  usurpers, 
and  this  I already  knew.  But  at  last,  quite  unex- 
pectedly, I found  a friend  — a former  fellow-teacher  — 
who  had  not  only  been  to  Oki,  but  was  going  there 
again  within  a few  days  about  some  business  matter. 
We  agreed  to  go  together.  His  accounts  of  Oki  dif- 
fered very  materially  from  those  of  the  people  who 
hud  never  been  there.  The  Oki  folks,  he  said,  were 
almost  as  much  civilized  as  the  Izumo  folks : they 
had  nice  towns  and  good  public  schools.  They  were 


FROM  HOKI  TO  OKI. 


555 


very  simple,  and  honest  beyond  belief,  and  extremely 
kind  to  strangers.  Their  only  boast  was  that  of 
having  kept  their  race  unchanged  since  the  time  that 
the  Japanese  had  first  come  to  Japan;  or,  in  more 
romantic  phrase,  since  the  Age  of  the  Gods.  They 
were  all  Shintoists,  members  of  the  Izumo  Taisha 
faith,  but  Buddhism  was  also  maintained  among 
them,  chiefly  through  the  generous  subscription  of 
private  individuals.  And  there  were  very  comfort- 
able hotels,  so  that  I would  feel  quite  at  home. 

He  also  gave  me  a little  book  about  Oki,  printed 
for  the  use  of  the  Oki  schools,  from  which  I obtained 
the  following  brief  summary  of  facts : — 


II. 

Oki-no-Kuni,  or  the  Land  of  Oki,  consists  of  two 
groups  of  small  islands  in  the  Sea  of  Japan,  about 
one  hundred  miles  from  the  coast  of  Izumo.  Dozen, 
as  the  nearer  group  is  termed,  comprises,  besides 
various  islets,  three  islands  lying  close  together: 
Chiburishima,  or  the  Island  of  Chibnri  (sometimes 
called  Higashinoshima,  or  Eastern  Island)  ; Nishino- 
shima,  or  the  Western  Island,  and  Nakanoshima,  or 
the  Middle  Island.  jMuch  larger  than  any  of  these 
is  the  principal  island,  Dogo,  whicli  together  with 
various  islets,  mostly  uninhabited,  form  the  remaining 
group.  It  is  sometimes  called  Oki,' — though  the 
name  Oki  is  more  generally  used  for  the  whole  archi- 
pelagod 

Officially,  Oki  is  divided  into  four  kori  or  coun- 
ties. Chiburi  and  Nishinoshima  together  form  Chi- 
burigori ; Nakanoshima,  with  an  islet,  makes  Ama- 
gori,  and  Dogo  is  divided  into  Ochigori  and  Sukigori. 

* The  names  Dozen  or  Tozen,  anci  Dojjo  or  Togo,  signify  “ the 
Before-Islands  ” and  “ the  Behind-Islands.” 


556  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


All  these  islands  are  very  mountainous,  and  only  a 
small  portion  of  their  area  has  ever  been  cultivated. 
Their  chief  sources  of  revenue  are  their  fisheries,  in 
which  nearly  the  whole  population  has  always  been 
engaged  from  the  most  ancient  times. 

During  the  winter  months  the  sea  between  Oki 
and  the  west  coast  is  highly  dangerous  for  small  ves- 
sels, and  in  that  season  the  islands  hold  little  com- 
munication with  the  mainland.  Only  one  passenger 
steamer  runs  to  Oki  from  Sakai  in  Hbki.  In  a direct 
line,  the  distance  from  Sakai  in  Hoki  to  Saigo,  the 
chief  port  of  Oki,  is  said  to  be  thirty-nine  ri ; but  the 
steamer  touches  at  the  other  islands  upon  her  way 
thither. 

There  are  quite  a number  of  little  towns,  or  rather 
villages,  in  Oki,  of  which  forty-five  belong  to  Dogo. 
The  villages  are  nearly  all  situated  upon  the  coast. 
There  are  large  schools  in  the  principal  towns. 
The  population  of  the  islands  is  stated  to  be  30,196, 
but  the  respective  populations  of  towns  and  villages 
are  not  given. 

III. 

From  Matsue  in  Izumo  to  Sakai  in  Hoki  is  a trip 
of  barely  two  hours  by  steamer.  Sakai  is  the  chief 
seaport  of  Shimane-Ken.  It  is  an  ugly  little  town, 
full  of  unpleasant  smells ; it  exists  only  as  a port ; 
it  has  no  industries,  scarcely  any  shops,  and  only  one 
Shinto  temple  of  small  dimensions  and  smaller  inter- 
est. Its  principal  buildings  are  warehouses,  pleasure 
resorts  for  sailors,  and  a few  large  dingy  hotels, 
which  are  always  overcrowded  with  guests  waiting 
for  steamers  to  Osaka,  to  Bakkan,  to  Hamada,  to 
Niigata,  and  various  other  ports.  On  this  coast  no 
steamers  run  regularly  anywhere;  their  owners  at- 


FROM  HOKI  TO  OKI. 


551 


tach  no  business  value  whatever  to  punctuality,  and 
guests  have  usually  to  wait  for  a much  longer  time 
than  they  could  possibly  have  expected,  and  the 
hotels  are  glad. 

But  the  harbor  is  beautiful,  — along  frith  betweeti 
the  high  land  of  Izumo  and  the  low  coast  of  Hoki. 
It  is  perfectly  sheltered  from  storms,  and  deep  enough 
to  admit  all  but  the  largest  steamers.  The  ships 
can  lie  close  to  the  houses,  and  the  harbor  is  nearly 
always  thronged  with  all  sorts  of  craft,  from  junks  to 
steam  packets  of  the  latest  construction. 

My  friend  and  I were  lucky  enough  to  secure  back 
rooms  at  the  best  hotel.  Back  rooms  are  the  best  in 
nearly  all  Japanese  buildings:  at  Sakai  they  have 
the  additional  advantage  of  overlooking  the  busy 
wharves  and  the  whole  luminous  bay,  beyond  which 
the  Izumo  hills  undulate  in  huge  green  billows  against 
the  sky.  There  was  much  to  see  and  to  be  amused 
at.  Steamers  and  sailing  craft  of  all  sorts  were  lying 
two  and  three  deep  before  the  hotel,  and  the  naked 
dock  laborers  were  loading  and  unloading  in  their 
own  peculiar  way.  These  men  are  recruited  from 
among  the  strongest  peasantry  of  Hoki  and  of  Izumo, 
and  some  were  really  fine  men,  over  whose  brown 
backs  the  muscles  rippled  at  every  movement.  They 
were  assisted  by  boys  of  fifteen  or  sixteen  appar- 
ently, — apprentices  learning  the  work,  but  not  yet 
strong  enough  to  bear  heavy  burdens.  I noticed  that 
nearly  all  had  bands  of  blue  cloth  bound  about  their 
calves  to  keep  the  veins  from  bursting.  And  all  sang 
as  they  worked.  There  was  one  curious  alternate 
chorus,  in  which  the  men  in  the  hold  gave  the 
signal  by  chanting  “ dokoe,  dokoe  ! ” (haul  away  !) 


658  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


and  those  at  the  hatch  responded  by  improvisations 
on  the  appearance  of  each  package  as  it  ascended : — 

Dokoe,  dvkoe  ! 

Onnago  no  ko  da. 

Dokoe,  dokoe  ! 

Oya  da  yo,  oya  da  yo. 

Dokoe,  dokoe  ! 

Choi<hoi  da,  choi-choi  da. 

Dokoe,  dokoe  ! 

Matsue  da,  Matsue  da. 

Dokoe,  dokoe  ! 

Koetsumo  Yonago  da,^  etc. 

But  this  chant  was  for  light  quick  work.  A very 
different  chant  accompanied  the  more  painful  and 
slower  labor  of  loading  heavy  sacks  and  barrels  upon 
the  shoulders  of  the  stronger  men  : — 

Yan-yui  ! 

Yan-yui  ! 

Yan-yui  ! 

Yan-yui ! 

Yoi-ya-sa-a-a-no-do-koeshi  ! * 

Three  men  always  lifted  the  weight.  At  the  first 
yan-yui  all  stooped ; at  the  second  all  took  hold  ; the 
third  signified  ready ; at  the  fourth  the  weight  rose 
from  the  ground  ; and  with  the  long  cry  of  yoiyasa 
no  dokoeshi  it  was  dropped  on  the  brawny  shoulder 
waiting  to  receive  it. 

Among  the  workers  was  a naked  laughing  boy, 
with  a fine  contralto  that  rang  out  so  merrily  through 
all  the  din  as  to  create  something  of  a sensation  in 

1 “Dokoe,  dokoe!  “ “ This  is  only  a woman’s  baby  ” (a  very  small 

package.)  “ Dokoe,  dokoe  ! ” “ This  is  the  daddy,  this  is  the  daddy  ” 
(a  big  package).”  “ Dokoe,  dokoe  ! ” “ ’T  is  very  small,  very  small ! ” 

“ Dokoe,  dokoe  ! ” “ This  is  for  Matsue,  this  is  for  Matsue  ! ” “Do- 
koe, dokoe  ! ” “ This  is  for  Koetsumo  of  Yonago,”  etc. 

^ These  words  seem  to  have  no  more  meaning  than  our  “ yo-heave- 
ho.”  Yan-yui  is  a cry  used  by  all  Izumo  and  Hoki  sailors. 


FROM  HOKI  TO  OKI. 


559 


the  hotel.  A young  woman,  one  of  the  guests,  came 
out  upon  the  balcony  to  look,  and  exclaimed : “ That 
boy’s  voice  is  ked,”  — whereat  everybody  smiled. 
Under  the  circumstances  I thought  the  observation 
very  expressive,  although  it  recalled  a certain  famous 
story  about  scarlet  and  the  sound  of  a trumpet,  which 
does  not  seem  nearly  so  funny  now  as  it  did  at  a 
time  when  we  knew  less  about  the  nature  of  light 
and  sound. 

The  Oki  steamer  arrived  the  same  afternoon,  but 
she  could  not  approach  the  wharf,  and  I could  only 
obtain  a momentary  glimpse  of  her  stern  through  a 
telescope,  with  which  I read  the  name,  in  English 
letters  of  gold,  — oki-saigo.  Before  I could  obtain 
any  idea  of  her  dimensions,  a huge  black  steamer 
from  Nagasaki  glided  between,  and  moored  right  in 
the  way. 

I watched  the  loading  and  unloading,  and  listened 
to  the  song  of  the  boy  with  the  red  voice,  until  sun- 
set, when  all  quit  work ; and  after  that  I watched 
the  Nagasaki  steamer.  She  had  made  her  way  to 
our  wharf  as  the  other  vessels  moved  out,  and  lay 
directly  under  the  balcony.  The  captain  and  crew 
did  not  appear  to  be  in  a hurry  about  anything. 
They  all  squatted  down  together  on  the  foredeck, 
w'here  a feast  was  spread  for  them  by  lantern-light. 
DancinK-ijii’ls  climbed  on  board  and  feasted  with 
them,  and  sang  to  the  sound  of  the  samisen,  and 
played  with  them  the  game  of  ken.  Late  into  the 
night  the  feasting  and  the  fun  continued;  and  al- 
though an  alarming  quantity  of  sakd  was  consumed, 
there  was  no  roughness  or  boisterousness.  But  sak4 
is  the  most  soporific  of  wines;  and  by  midnight  only 


560  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


three  of  the  men  remained  on  deck.  One  of  these 
had  not  taken  any  sak4  at  all,  but  still  desired  to  eat. 
Happily  for  him  there  climbed  on  board  a night- 
walking mochiya  with  a box  of  mochi,  which  are 
cakes  of  rice-flour  sweetened  with  native  sugar.  The 
hungry  one  bought  all,  and  reproached  the  mochiya 
because  there  were  no  more,  and  offered,  neverthe- 
less, to  share  the  mochi  with  his  comrades.  Where- 
upon the  first  to  whom  the  offer  was  made  answered 
somewhat  after  this  manner  : — 

“ I-your-servant  mochi-for  this- world-in  no-use-have. 
Sak^-alone  this-life-in  if-there-be,  nothing-beside-desir- 
able-is.” 

“ For  me-your-servant,”  spake  the  other,  “ Woman 
this-fleeting-life-in  the-supreme-thing  is  ; raochi-or- 
sakd-for  earthly-use  have-I-none.” 

But,  having  made  all  the  mochi  to  disappear,  he 
that  had  been  hungry  turned  himself  to  the  mochiya, 
and  said  : — 

“ O Mochiya  San,  I-your-servant  Woman-or-sak^- 
for  earthly-requirement  have-none.  Mochi-than  things 
better  this-life-of-sorrow-in  existence-have-not ! ” 


IV. 

Early  in  the  morning  we  were  notified  that  the 
Oki-Saigo  would  start  at  pi’ecisely  eight  o’clock,  and 
that  we  had  better  secure  our  tickets  at  once.  The 
hotel-servant,  according  to  Japanese  custom,  relieved 
us  of  all  anxiety  about  baggage,  etc.,  and  bought 
our  tickets : first-class  fare,  eighty  sen.  And  after  a 
hasty  breakfast  the  hotel  boat  came  under  the  win- 
dow to  take  us  away. 

Warned  by  experience  of  the  discomforts  of  Euro- 
pean dress  on  Shimane  steamers,  I adopted  Japanese 


FBOM  HOKI  TO  OKI. 


561 


costume  and  exchanged  my  shoes  for  sandals.  Our 
boatmen  sculled  swiftly  through  the  confusion  of 
shipping  and  j unkery  ; and  as  we  cleared  it  I saw, 
far  out  in  midstream,  the  joki  waiting  for  us.  Joki 
is  a Japanese  name  for  steam-vessel.  The  word  had 
not  yet  impressed  me  as  being  capable  of  a sinister 
Interpretation. 

She  seemed  nearly  as  long  as  a harbor  tug,  though 
much  more  squabby  ; and  she  otherwise  so  much  re- 
sembled the  lilliputian  steamers  of  Lake  Shinji,  that 
I felt  somewhat  afraid  of  her,  even  for  a trip  of  one 
hundred  miles.  But  exterior  inspection  afforded  no 
clue  to  the  mystery  of  her  inside.  We  reached  her  and 
climbed  into  her  starboard  through  a small  squai’e 
hole.  At  once  I found  myself  cramped  in  a heavily- 
roofed  gangway,  four  feet  high  and  two  feet  wide, 
and  in  the  thick  of  a frightful  squeeze,  — passengers 
stifling  in  the  effort  to  pull  baggage  three  feet  in 
diameter  through  the  two-foot  orifice.  It  was  impos- 
sible to  advance  or  retreat ; and  behind  me  the  en- 
gine-room gratings  were  pouring  wonderful  heat  into 
this  infernal  corridor.  I had  to  wait  with  the  back 
of  my  head  pressed  against  the  roof  until,  in  some 
unimaginable  way,  all  baggage  and  passengers  had 
squashed  and  squeezed  through.  Then,  reaching  a 
doorway,  I fell  over  a heap  of  sandals  and  geta,  into 
the  first-class  cabin.  It  was  pretty,  with  its  polished 
woodwork  and  mirrors ; it  was  surrounded  by  divans 
five  inches  wide  ; and  in  the  centre  it  was  nearly  six 
feet  high.  Such  altitude  would  have  been  a cause 
for  comparative  happiness,  but  that  from  various  pol- 
ished bars  of  brass  extended  across  the  ceiling  all 
kinds  of  small  baggage,  including  two  cages  of  sing- 
ing-crickets (^chon-gisu'),  had  been  carefully  sus- 


562  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


pended.  Furthermore  the  cabin  was  already  ex- 
tremely occupied  : everybody,  of  course,  on  the  floor, 
and  nearly  everybody  lying  at  extreme  length ; and 
the  heat  struck  me  as  being  supernatural.  Now 
they  that  go  down  to  the  sea  in  ships,  out  of  Izumo 
and  such  places,  for  the  purpose  of  doing  business  in 
great  waters,  are  never  supposed  to  stand  up,  but  to 
sq-uat  in  the  ancient  patient  manner ; and  coast  or 
lake  steamers  are  constructed  with  a view  to  render 
this  attitude  only  possible.  Observing  an  open  door 
in  the  port  side  of  the  cabin,  I picked  my  way  over  a 
tangle  of  bodies  and  limbs,  — among  them  a pair  of 
fairy  legs  belonging  to  a dancing-girl,  — and  found 
myself  presently  in  another  gangway,  also  roofed,  and 
choked  up  to  the  roof  with  baskets  of  squirming  eels. 
Exit  there  was  none : so  I climbed  back  over  all  the 
legs  and  tried  the  starboard  gangway  a second  time. 
Even  during  that  short  interval,  it  had  been  half 
filled  with  baskets  of  unhappy  chickens.  But  I 
made  a reckless  dash  over  them,  in  spite  of  frantic 
cacklings  which  hurt  my  soul,  and  succeeded  in  find- 
ing a way  to  the  cabin-roof.  It  was  entirely  occu- 
pied by  watermelons,  except  one  corner,  where  there 
was  a big  coil  of  rope.  I put  melons  inside  of  the 
rope,  and  sat  upon  them  in  the  sun.  It  was  not 
comfortable  ; but  I thought  that  there  I might  have 
some  chance  for  my  life  in  case  of  a catastrophe,  and 
I was  sure  that  even  the  gods  could  give  no  help  to 
those  below.  During  the  squeeze  I had  got  sepa- 
rated from  my  companion,  but  I was  afraid  to  make 
any  attempt  to  find  him.  Forward  I saw  the  roof  of 
the  second  cabin  crowded  with  third-class  passengers 
squatting  round  a hibachi.  To  pass  through  them 
did  not  seem  possible,  and  to  retire  would  have  in- 


FROM  HOKI  TO  OKI.  563 

volved  the  murder  of  either  eels  or  chickens.  Where- 
fore I sat  upon  the  melons. 

And  the  boat  started,  with  a stunning  scream.  In 
another  moment  her  funnel  began  to  rain  soot  upon 
me,  — for  the  so-called  first-class  cabin  was  well 
astern,  — and  then  came  small  cinders  mixed  with 
tlie  soot,  and  the  cinders  were  occasionally  red-hot. 
But  I sat  burning  upon  the  watermelons  for  some 
time  longer,  trying  to  imagine  a way  of  changing 
my  position  without  committing  another  assault  upon 
the  chickens.  Finally,  I made  a desperate  endeavor 
to  get  to  leeward  of  the  volcano,  and  it  was  then  for 
the  first  time  that  I began  to  learn  the  peculiarities 
of  the  joki.  What  I tried  to  sit  on  turned  upside 
down,  and  what  I tried  to  hold  by  instantly  gave 
way,  and  always  in  the  direction  of  overboard. 
Things  clamped  or  rigidly  braced  to  outward  seem- 
ing proved,  upon  cautious  examination,  to  be  danger- 
ously mobile ; and  things  that,  according  to  Occi- 
dental ideas,  ought  to  have  been  movable,  were 
fixed  like  the  roots  of  the  perpetual  hills.  In  what- 
ever direction  a rope  or  stay  could  possibly  have  been 
stretched  so  as  to  make  somebody  unhappy,  it  was 
there.  In  the  midst  of  these  trials  the  frigrhtful  little 
craft  began  to  swing,  and  the  watermelons  began  to 
rush  heavily  to  and  fro,  and  I came  to  the  conclusion 
that  this  joki  had  been  planned  and  constructed  by 
demons. 

Which  I stated  to  my  friend.  He  had  not  only 
rejoined  me  quite  unexpectedly,  but  had  brought 
along  with  him  one  of  the.  ship’s  boys  to  spread  an 
awning  above  ourselves  and  the  watermelons,  so  as 
to  exclude  cinders  and  sun. 

“ Oh,  no  I ” he  answered  reproachfully.  “ She  was 


504  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


designed  and  built  at  Hyogo,  and  really  she  might 
have  been  made  much  worse.  . . •” 

“ I beg  your  pardon,”  I interrupted ; “ I don’t 
agree  with  you  at  all.” 

“Well,  you  will  see  for  yourself,”  he  persisted. 
“ Her  hull  is  good  steel,  and  her  little  engine  is  won- 
derful; she  can  make  her  hundred  miles  in  five 
hours.  She  is  not  very  comfortable,  but  she  is  very 
swift  and  strong.” 

“ I would  rather  be  in  a sampan,”  I protested,  “ if 
there  were  rough  weather.” 

“ But  she  never  goes  to  sea  in  rough  weather.  If 
it  only  looks  as  if  there  might  possibly  be  some 
rough  weather,  she  stays  in  port.  Sometimes  she 
waits  a whole  month.  She  never  runs  any  risks.” 

I could  not  feel  sure  of  it.  But  I soon  forgot  all 
discomforts,  even  the  discomfort  of  sitting  upon 
watermelons,  in  the  delight  of  the  divine  day  and 
the  magnificent  view  that  opened  wider  and  wider 
before  us,  as  we  rushed  from  the  long  frith  into  the 
Sea  of  Japan,  following  the  Izumo  coast.  There 
was  no  fleck  in  the  soft  blue  vastness  above,  not  one 
flutter  on  the  metallic  smoothness  of  the  all-reflecting 
sea ; if  our  little  steamer  rocked,  it  was  doubtless  be- 
cause she  had  been  overloaded.  To  port,  the  Izumo 
hills  were  flying  by,  a long,  wild  procession  of  broken 
shapes,  sombre  green,  separating  at  intervals  to  form 
mysterious  little  bays,  with  fishing  hamlets  hiding  in 
them.  Leagues  away  to  starboard,  the  Hdki  shore 
receded  into  the  naked  white  horizon,  an  ever-dimin- 
ishing streak  of  warm  blue  edged  with  a thread-line 
of  white,  the  gleam  of  a sand  beach  ; and  beyond  it, 
in  the  centre,  a vast  shadowy  jiyramid  loomed  up  into 
heaven,  — the  ghostly  peak  of  Daisen. 


FROM  HOKI  TO  OKI. 


565 


My  companion  touched  my  arm  to  call  my  atten- 
tion to  a group  of  pine-trees  on  the  summit  of  a peak 
to  port,  and  laughed  and  sang  a Japanese  song.  How 
swiftly  we  had  been  traveling  I then  for  the  first 
time  understood,  for  I recognized  the  four  famous 
pines  of  Mionoseki,  on  the  windy  heights  above  the 
shrine  of  Koto-shiro-nushi-no-Kami.  There  used  to 
be  five  trees:  one  was  uprooted  by  a storm,  and  some 
Izuino  poet  wrote  about  the  remaining  four  the 
words  which  my  friend  had  sung : — 

Seki  no  gohon  niatsu 

Ippun  kirya,  shihon  ; 

Ato  wa  kirarenu 
Miyoto  matsu. 

Which  means : “ Of  the  five  pines  of  Seki  one  has  been 
cut,  and  four  remain  ; and  of  these  no  one  must  now 
be  cut,  — they  are  wedded  pairs.”  And  in  Mio- 
noseki there  are  sold  beautiful  little  sak6  cups  and 
saktj  bottles,  upon  which  are  pictures  of  the  four 
pines,  and  above  the  pictures,  in  spidery  text  of  gold, 
the  verses,  “ Seki  no  gohon  matsu."  These  are  for 
keepsakes,  and  there  are  many  other  curious  and 
pretty  souvenirs  to  buy  in  those  pretty  shops : porce- 
lains bearing  the  picture  of  the  Alionoseki  temple, 
and  metal  clasps  for  tobacco  pouches  representing 
Koto-shiro-nushi-no-Kami  trying  to  put  a big  tai-fish 
into  a basket  too  small  for  it,  and  funny  masks  of 
glazed  earthenware  representing  tlie  laughing  face  of 
tlie  god.  For  a jovial  god  is  this  Ebisu,  or  Koto- 
shiro-nushi-no-Kami,  patron  of  honest  labor  and  espe- 
ciall}'  of  fishers,  though  less  of  a laughter-lover  than 
his  father,  the  Great  Deity  of  Kitzuki,  about  whom 
’t  is  said : “ Whenever  the  happy  laugh,  the  God 
rejoices.” 


566  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


We  passed  the  Cape,  — the  Miho  of  the  Kojiki, — 
and  the  harbor  of  Mionoseki  opened  before  us,  show- 
ing its  islanded  shrine  of  Benten  in  the  midst,  and 
the  crescent  of  quaint  houses  with  their  feet  in  the 
water,  and  the  great  torii  and  granite  lions  of  the 
far-famed  temple.  Immediately  a number  of  pas- 
sengers rose  to  their  feet,  and,  turning  their  faces 
toward  the  torii,  began  to  clap  their  hands  in  Shinto 
prayer. 

I said  to  my  friend : — 

“ There  are  fifty  baskets  full  of  chickens  in  the 
gangway  ; and  yet  these  people  are  praying  to  Koto- 
shiro-nushi-no-Kami  that  nothing  horrible  may  hap- 
pen to  this  boat.” 

“ More  likely,”  he  answered,  “ they  are  praying 
for  good-fortune ; though  there  is  a saying : ‘ The 
gods  only  laugh  when  men  pray  to  them  for  wealth.’ 
But  of  the  Great  Deity  of  Mionoseki  there  is  a good 
story  told.  Once  there  was  a very  lazy  man  who 
went  to  Mionoseki  and  prayed  to  become  rich.  And 
the  same  night  he  saw  the  god  in  a dream ; and  the 
god  laughed,  and  took  off  one  of  his  own  divine 
sandals,  and  told  him  to  examine  it.  And  the  man 
saw  that  it  was  made  of  solid  brass,  but  had  a big 
hole  worn  through  the  sole  of  it.  Then  said  the 
god:  ‘You  want  to  have  money  without  woi'king 

for  it.  I am  a god  ; but  I am  never  lazy.  See ! my 
sandals  are  of  brass : yet  I have  worked  and  walked 
so  much  that  they  are  quite  worn  out.’” 


V. 

The  beautiful  bay  of  Mionoseki  opens  between 
two  headlands : Cape  Mio  (or  Miho,  according  to 
the  archaic  spelling)  and  the  Cnpe  of  Jizo  (Jizo- 


FROM  HOKI  TO  OKI. 


567 


zaki),  now  most  inappropriately  called  by  the  people 
“The  Nose  of  Jizo”  (Jizo-no-luina).  This  Nose  of 
Jizo  is  one  of  the  most  dangerous  points  of  the  coast 
in  time  of  surf,  and  the  great  terror  of  small  ships 
returning  from  Oki,  There  is  nearly  always  a heavy 
swell  there,  even  in  fair  weather.  Yet  as  we  passed 
the  ragged  promontory  I was  surprised  to  see  the 
water  still  as  glass.  1 felt  suspicious  of  that  noiseless 
sea:  its  soundlessness  recalled  the  beautiful  treach- 
erous sleep  of  waves  and  winds  which  precedes  a 
tropical  hurricane.  But  my  friend  said:  — 

“ It  may  remain  like  this  for  weeks.  In  the  sixth 
month  and  in  the  beginning  of  the  seventh,  it  is 
usually  very  quiet;  it  is  not  likely  to  become  danger- 
ous before  the  Bon.  But  there  was  a little  squall  last 
week  at  Mionoseki ; and  the  people  said  that  it  was 
caused  by  the  anger  of  the  god.” 

“ Eggs  ? ” I queried. 

“ No  : a Kudan.” 

“ What  is  a Kudan 

“ Is  it  possible  you  never  heard  of  the  Kudan  ? 
The  Kudan  has  the  face  of  a man,  and  the  body  of  a 
bull.  Sometimes  it  is  born  of  a cow,  and  that  is  a 
Sign-of-things-going-to-happen.  And  the  Kudan  al- 
ways tells  the  truth.  Therefore  in  Japanese  letters 
and  documents  it  is  customary  to  use  the  phrase, 
Kudan-no-ffotoshi,  — ‘like  the  Kudan,’  — or  ‘ on  the 
truth  of  the  Kudan.’  ” ^ 

“But  why  was  the  God  of  Mionoseki  angry  about 
the  Kudan?"” 

“ People  said  it  was  a stuffed  Kudan.  I did  not 

^ This  curious  meaning  is  not  given  in  Japanese-English  diction- 
aries. where  the  idiom  is  translated  merely  by  the  phrase  “as  afore- 
said.” 


VOL.  II. 


568  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


see  it,  so  I cannot  tell  you  how  it  was  made.  There 
were  some  traveling  showmen  from  Osaka  at  Sakai. 
They  had  a tiger  and  many  curious  animals  and  the 
stuffed  Kudan  ; and  they  took  the  Izumo  j\Iaru  for 
Mionoseki.  As  the  steamer  entered  the  port,  a sud- 
den squall  came  ; and  the  priests  of  the  temple  said, 
the  god  was  angry  because  things  impure  — bones 
and  parts  of  dead  animals  — had  been  brought  to  the 
town.  And  the  show  people  were  not  even  allowed 
to  land:  they  had  to  go  back  to  Sakai  on  the  same 
steamer.  And  as  soon  as  they  had  gone  away,  the 
sky  became  clear  again,  and  the  wind  stopped  blow- 
ing : so  that  some  people  thought  what  the  priests  had 
said  was  true.” 

VI. 

Evidently  there  was  much  more  moisture  in  the 
atmosphei’e  than  I had  supj30sed.  On  really  clear 
days,  Daisen  can  be  distinctly  seen  even  from  Oki ; 
but  we  had  scarcely  passed  the  Nose  of  Jizo  when  the 
huge  peak  began  to  wrap  itself  in  vapor  of  the  same 
color  as  the  horizon.;  and  in  a few  minutes  it  van- 
ished, as  a spectre  might  vanish.  The  effect  of  this 
sudden  disappeai  ance  was  very  extraordinary ; for 
only  the  peak  passed  from  sight,  and  that  which  had 
veiled  it  could  not  be  in  any  way  distinguished  from 
horizon  and  sky. 

Meanwhile  the  Oki-Saigo,  having  reached  the  far- 
thest outlying  point  of  the  coast  upon  her  route,  began 
to  race  in  a straight  line  across  the  Japanese  Sea. 
The  green  hills  of  Izumo  fled  away  and  turned  blue, 
and  the  spectral  shores  of  Hoki  began  to  melt  into 
the  horizon,  like  bands  of  cloud.  Then  I was  obliged 
to  confess  my  surprise  at  the  speed  of  the  horrid  little 
steamer.  She  moved,  too,  with  scarcely  any  sound, 


FROM  HOKI  TO  OKI. 


569 


so  smooth  was  the  working  of  her  wonderful  little 
engine.  But  she  began  to  swing  heavily,  with  deep, 
slow  swingings.  To  the  eye,  the  sea  looked  level  as 
oil  ; but  there  were  long  invisible  swells  — ocean- 
pulses — that  made  themselves  felt  beneath  the  sur- 
face. Hoki  evaporated  ; the  lizurao  hills  turned  gray, 
and  their  gray  steadily  paled  as  I watched  them. 
They  grew  more  and  more  colorless,  — seemed  to  be- 
come transparent.  And  then  they  were  not.  Only 
blue  sky  and  blue  sea,  welded  together  in  the  white 
horizon. 

It  was  just  as  lonesome  as  if  we  had  been  a thou- 
sand leagues  from  land.  And  in  that  weirdness  we 
were  told  some  very  lonesome  things  by  an  ancient 
mariner  who  found  leisure  to  join  us  among  the 
watermelons.  He  talked  of  the  Ilotoke-umi,  and 
the  ill-luck  of  being  at  sea  on  the  sixteenth  day  of 
the  seventh  month.  He  told  us  that  even  the  great 
steamers  never  went  to  sea  during  the  Bon : no  crew 
would  venture  to  take  a ship  out  then.  And  he  re- 
lated the  following  stories  with  such  simple  earnest- 
ness that  I think  he  must  have  believed  what  he 
said : — 

“The  first  time  I was  very  young.  From  Hok- 
kaido we  had  sailed,  and  the  voyage  was  long,  and 
the  winds  turned  against  us.  And  the  night  of  the 
sixteenth  day  fell,  as  we  w'ere  working  on  over  this 
very  sea. 

“ And  all  at  once  in  the  darkness  we  saw  behind 
us  a great  junk, — all  white,  — that  we  had  not 
noticed  till  she  was  quite  close  to  us.  It  made  us 
feel  queer,  because  she  seemed  to  have  come  from 
nowhere.  She  was  so  near  us  that  we  could  hear 


570  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


voices ; and  her  hull  towered  up  high  above  us.  She 
seemed  to  be  sailing  very  fast;  but  she  came  no 
closer.  We  shouted  to  her ; but  we  got  no  answer. 
And  while  we  were  watching  her,  all  of  us  became 
afraid,  because  she  did  not  move  like  a real  ship. 
The  sea  was  terrible,  and  we  were  lurching  and 
plunging;  but  that  great  junk  never  rolled.  Just  at 
the  same  moment  that  we  began  to  feel  afraid  she 
vanished  so  quickly  that  we  could  scarcely  believe 
we  had  really  seen  her  at  all. 

“ That  was  the  first  time.  But  four  years  ago  I 
saw  something  still  more  strange.  We  were  bound 
for  Oki,  in  a junk,  and  the  wind  again  dela3’ed  us,  so 
that  we  were  at  sea  on  the  sixteenth  day.  It  was  in 
the  morning,  a little  before  midday ; the  skj'  was 
dark,  and  the  sea  very  ugly.  All  at  once  we  saw 
a steamer  running  in  our  track,  very  quickly.  She 
got  so  close  to  us  that  we  could  hear  her  engines, 
katakata,  katakata  ! — but  we  saw  nobod}'^  on  deck. 
Then  she  began  to  follow  us,  keeping  exactly  at  the 
same  distance,  and  whenever  we  tried  to  get  out  of 
her  way  she  would  turn  after  us  and  keep  exactly  in 
our  wake.  And  then  we  suspected  what  she  was. 
But  we  were  not  sure  until  she  vanished.  She  van- 
ished like  a bubble,  without  making  the  least  sound. 
None  of  us  could  say  exacth'  when  she  disappeared. 
None  of  us  saw  her  vanish.  The  strangest  thing  was 
that  after  she  was  gone  we  could  still  hear  her  en- 
gines working  behind  us,  — katakata.,  katakata,  ka- 
takata ! 

“That  is  all  I saw.  But  I know  others,  sailors 
like  myself,  who  have  seen  more.  Sometimes  many 
ships  will  follow  you,  — though  never  at  the  same 
time.  One  will  come  close  and  vanish,  then  another, 


FROM  HOKI  TO  OKI. 


571 


and  then  another.  As  long  as  they  come  behind 
you,  you  need  never  be  afraid.  But  if  you  see  a 
ship  of  that  sort  running  before  you,  against  the 
wind,  that  is  very  bad ! It  means  that  all  on  board 
will  be  drowned.” 


VII. 

The  luminous  blankness  circling  us  continued  to 
remain  unflecked  for  less  than  an  hour.  Then  out 
of  the  horizon  toward  which  Ave  steamed,  a small 
gray  vagueness  began  to  grow.  It  lengthened  fast, 
and  seemed  a cloud.  And  a cloud  it  proved  ; but 
slowly,  beneath  it,  blue  filmy  shapes  began  to  define 
against  the  whiteness,  and  sharpened  into  a chain  of 
mountains.  They  grew  taller  and  bluer,  — a little 
sierra,  with  one  paler  shape  towering  in  the  middle 
to  thrice  the  height  of  the  rest,  and  filleted  with 
cloud,  — Takuhizan,  the  sacred  mountain  of  Oki,  in 
the  island  Nishinoshima. 

Takuhizan  has  legends,  which  I learned  from  my 
friend.  Upon  its  summit  stands  an  ancient  shrine  of 
the  deity  Gongen-Sama.  And  it  is  said  that  upon 
the  thirty-first  night  of  the  twelfth  month  three 
ghostly  fires  arise  from  the  sea  and  ascend  to  the 
place  of  the  shrine,  and  enter  the  stone  lanterns 
which  stand  before  it,  and  there  remain,  burning 
like  lamps.  These  lights  do  not  arise  at  once,  but 
separately,  from  the  sea,  and  rise  to  the  top  of  the 
peak  one  by  one.  The  people  go  out  in  boats  to  see 
the  lights  mount  from  the  water.  But  only  those 
whose  hearts  are  pure  can  see  them  ; those  who  have 
evil  thoughts  or  desires  look  for  the  holy  fires  in 
vain. 


572  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


Before  us,  as  we  steamed  on,  the  sea-surface  ap- 
peared to  become  suddenly  speckled  with  queer  craft 
pi-eviously  invisible,  — light,  long  fishing-boats,  with 
immense  square  sails  of  a beautiful  yellow  color.  I 
could  not  help  remarking  to  my  comrade  how  pretty 
those  sails  were ; he  laughed,  and  told  me  the}'  were 
made  of  old  tatami.^  I examined  them  through  a 
telescope,  and  found  that  they  were  exactly  what  he 
had  said,  — woven  straw  coverings  of  old  floor-mats. 
Nevertheless,  that  first  tender  yellow  sprinkling  of 
Oki  sails  over  the  soft  blue  water  was  a charming 
sight. 

They  fleeted  b}',  like  a passing  of  yellow  butter- 
flies, and  the  sea  was  void  again.  Gradually,  a little 
to  port,  a point  in  the  approaching  line  of  blue  cliffs 
shaped  itself  and  changed  color,  — dull  green  above, 
reddish  gray  below;  it  defined  into  a huge  rock,  with 
a dark  patch  on  its  face,  but  the  rest  of  the  land 
remained  blue.  The  dark  patch  blackened  as  we 
came  nearer,  — a great  gap  full  of  shadow.  Then 
the  blue  cliffs  beyond  also  turned  green,  and  their 
bases  reddish  gray.  We  passed  to  the  right  of  the 
huge  rock,  which  proved  to  be  a detached  and  unin- 

1 The  floor  of  a Japanese  dwelling  might  be  compared  to  an  im- 
mense but  very  shallow  wooden  tray,  divided  into  compartments 
corresponding  to  the  various  rooms.  These  divisions  are  formed  b_v 
grooved  and  polished  woodwork,  several  inches  above  the  level,  and 
made  for  the  accommodation  of  the  fusuma,  or  sliding  screens,  sepa- 
rating room  from  room.  The  compartments  are  filled  up  level  with 
the  partitions  with  tatami,  or  mats  about  the  thickness  of  light  mat- 
tresses, covered  with  beautifully  woven  rice-straw.  The  squared  edges 
of  the  mats  fit  exactly  together,  and  as  the  mats  are  not  made  for  the 
house,  but  the  house  for  the  mats,  all  tatami  are  exactly  the  same 
size.  The  fully  finished  floor  of  each  room  is  thus  like  a great  soft 
bed.  No  shoes,  of  course,  can  be  worn  in  a Japanese  house.  As 
.soon  as  the  mats  become  in  the  least  soiled  they  are  replaced  by  new 


ones. 


FROM  HOKl  TO  OKI. 


573 


habited  islet,  Hakashima;  and  in  another  moment 
we  were  steaming  into  the  archipelago  of  Oki,  be- 
tween the  lofty  islands  Chiburishima  and  Nakashima. 

vni. 

The  first  impression  was  almost  uncanny.  Rising 
sheer  from  the  flood  on  either  hand,  the  tall  green 
silent  hills  stretched  away  before  us,  changing  tint 
through  the  summer  vapor,  to  form  a fantastic  vista 
of  blue  cliffs  and  peaks  and  promontories.  There 
was  not  one  sign  of  human  life.  Above  their  pale 
bases  of  naked  rock  the  mountains  sloped  up  be- 
neath a sombre  wildness  of  dwarf  vegetation.  There 
was  absolutely  no  sound,  except  the  sound  of  the 
steamer’s  tiny  engine, — poum-poum,  poum!  poum- 
poum,  poum!  like  the  faint  tapping  of  a geisha’s 
drum.  And  this  savage  silence  continued  for  miles: 
only  the  absence  of  lofty  timber  gave  evidence  that 
those  peaked  hills  had  ever  been  trodden  by  human 
foot.  But  all  at  once,  to  the  left,  in  a mountain 
wrinkle,  a little  gray  hamlet  appeared ; and  the 
steamer  screamed  and  stopped,  while  the  hills  re- 
peated the  scream  seven  times. 

This  settlement  was  Chiburimura,  of  Chiburishima 
(Nakashima  being  the  island  to  starboard),  — evi- 
dently nothing  more  than  a fishing  station.  First 
a wharf  of  uncemented  stone  rising  from  the  cove 
like  a wall  ; then  great  trees  through  which  one 
caught  sight  of  a torii  before  some  Shinto  shrine, 
and  of  a dozen  houses  climbing  the  hollow  hill  one 
behind  another,  roof  beyond  roof ; and  above  these 
some  terraced  patches  of  tilled  ground  in  the  midst 
of  desolation  : that  was  all.  The  packet  halted  to 
deliver  mail,  and  passed  on. 


574  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


But  then,  contrary  to  expectation,  the  scenery  be- 
came more  beautiful.  The  shores  on  either  side  at 
once  receded  and  heightened : we  were  traversing  an 
inland  sea  bounded  by  three  lofty  islands.  At  first 
the  way  before  us  had  seemed  barred  by  vapory 
hills  ; but  as  these,  drawing  nearer,  turned  green, 
there  suddenly  opened  magnificent  chasms  between 
them  on  both  sides, — mountain-gates  revealing  league- 
long  wondrous  vistas  of  peaks  and  cliffs  and  capes  of 
a hundred  blues,  ranging  away  from  velvety  indigo 
into  far  tones  of  exquisite  and  spectral  delicacy.  A 
tinted  haze  made  dreamy  all  remotenesses,  and  veiled 
with  illusions  of  color  the  rugged  nudities  of  rock. 

The  beauty  of  the  scenery  of  Western  and  Central 
Japan  is  not  as  the  beauty  of  scener}’  in  other  lands; 
it  has  a peculiar  character  of  its  own.  Occasionally 
the  foreigner  may  find  memories  of  former  travel 
suddenly  stirred  to  life  by  some  view  on  a mountain 
road,  or  some  stretch  of  beetling  coast  seen  through 
a fog  of  spray.  But  this  illusion  of  resemblance  van- 
ishes as  swiftly  as  it  comes ; details  immediately  de- 
fine into  strangeness,  and  you  become  aware  that  the 
remembrance  was  evoked  by  form  only,  never  by 
color.  Colors  indeed  there  are  which  delight  the 
eye,  but  not  colors  of  mountain  verdure,  not  colors 
of  the  land.  Cultivated  plains,  expanses  of  growdng 
rice,  may  offer  some  approach  to  warmth  of  green  ; 
but  the  whole  general  tone  of  this  nature  is  dusky  ; 
the  vast  forests  are  sombre;  the  tints  of  grasses  are 
harsh  or  dull.  Fiery  greens,  such  as  burn  in  tropical 
scenery,  do  not  exist;  and  blossom-bursts  take  a 
more  exquisite  radiance  by  contrast  with  the  heavy 
tones  of  the  vegetation  out  of  which  they  flame. 


FROM  HOKI  TO  OKI. 


bl5 


Outside  of  parks  and  gardens  and  cultivated  fields, 
there  is  a singular  absence  of  warmth  and  tenderness 
in  tlie  tints  of  verdure  ; and  nowhere  need  you  hope 
to  find  any  such  richness  of  green  as  that  which 
makes  the  loveliness  of  an  English  lawn. 

Yet  these  Oriental  landscapes  possess  charms  of 
color  extraordinary,  — phantom-color,  delicate,  elfish, 
indescribable,  — created  by  the  wonderful  atmosphere. 
Vapors  enchant  the  distances,  bathing  peaks  in  be- 
witchments of  blue  and  gray  of  a hundred  tones, 
transforming  naked  cliffs  to  amethyst,  stretching 
spectral  gauzes  across  the  topazine  morning,  magni- 
fying the  splendor  of  noon  by  effacing  the  horizon, 
filling  the  evening  with  smoke  of  gold,  bronzing 
the  waters,  banding  the  sundown  with  ghostly  pur- 
ple and  green  of  nacre.  Now,  the  old  Japanese 
artists  who  made  those  marvelous  eAon  — those  pic- 
ture-books w'hich  have  now  become  so  rare  — tried  to 
fix  the  sensation  of  these  enchantments  in  color,  and 
they  were  successful  in  their  backgrounds  to  a degree 
almost  miraculous.  For  which  very  reason  some  of 
their  foregrounds  have  been  a puzzle  to  foreigners 
unacquainted  with  certain  features  of  Japanese  agri- 
culture. You  will  see  blazing  saffron-yellow  fields, 
faint  purple  plains,  crimson  and  snow-white  trees,  in 
those  old  picture-books;  and  perhaps  you  will  ex- 
claim : “ Mow  absurd  ! ” But  if  you  knew  Japan  you 
would  cry  out : “ How  deliciously  real  ! ” For  vou 
would  know  those  fields  of  burning  yellow  are  fields 
of  flowering  rape,  and  the  purple  expanses  are  fields 
of  blossoming  miyako,  and  the  snow-white  or  crimson 
trees  are  not  fanciful,  but  represent  faithfully  certain 
phenomena  of  efflorescence  peculiar  to  the  plum-trees 
and  the  cherry-trees  of  the  country.  But  these  chro- 


576  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


matic  extravaganzas  can  be  witnessed  only  during 
very  brief  periods  of  particular  seasons : throughout 
the  greater  part  of  the  year,  the  foreground  of  an 
inland  landscape  is  apt  to  be  dull  enough  in  the 
matter  of  color. 

It  is  the  mists  that  make  the  magic  of  the  back- 
grounds ; yet  even  without  them  there  is  a strange, 
wild,  dark  beauty  in  Japanese  landscapes,  a beauty 
not  easily  defined  in  words.  The  secret  of  it  must 
be  sought  in  the  extraordinary  lines  of  the  moun- 
tains, in  the  strangely  abrupt  crumpling  and  jagging 
of  the  ranges:  no  two  masses  closely  resembling  each 
other,  every  one  having  a fantasticality  of  its  own. 
Where  the  chains  reach  to  any  considerable  height, 
softly  swelling  lines  are  rare : the  general  character- 
istic is  abruptness,  and  the  charm  is  the  charm  of 
Irregularity. 

Doubtless  this  weird  Nature  first  inspired  the  Jap- 
anese with  their  unique  sense  of  the  value  of  irregu- 
larity in  decoration,  — taught  them  that  single  secret 
of  composition  which  distinguishes  their  art  from  all 
other  art,  and  which  Professor  Cliamberlain  has  said 
it  is  their  special  mission  to  teach  to  the  Occident.^ 
Certainly,  whoever  has  once  learned  to  feel  the  beauty 
and  significance  of  the  old  Japanese  decorative  art 
can  find  thereafter  little  pleasure  in  the  cori-espond- 
ing  art  of  the  West.  What  he  has  really  learned  is 
that  Nature’s  greatest  charm  is  irregularity.  And 
perhaps  something  of  no  small  value  might  be  written 
upon  the  question  whether  the  highest  charm  of  hu- 
man life  and  work  is  not  also  irregularity. 


1 See  article  on  Art  in  his  Things  Japanese. 


FROM  HOKI  TO  OKI.  577 


IX. 

From  Cliiburimura  we  made  steam  west  for  the 
port  of  Urago,  which  is  in  the  island  of  Nishinoshima. 
As  we  appi’oached  it  Takuhizan  came  into  imposing 
view.  Far  away  it  had  seemed  a soft  and  beautiful 
shape;  but  as  its  blue  tones  evaporated  its  aspect 
became  rough  and  even  grim : an  enormous  jagged 
bulk  all  robed  in  sombre  verdure,  through  which, 
as  through  tatters,  there  protruded  here  and  there 
naked  rock  of  the  wildest  shapes.  One  fragment,  I 
remember,  as  it  caught  the  slanting  sun  upon  the 
irregularities  of  its  summit,  seemed  an  immense  gray 
skull.  At  the  base  of  this  mountain,  and  facing  the 
sjiore  of  Nakashima,  rises  a pyramidal  mass  of  rock, 
covered  with  scraggy  undergrowth,  and  several  hun- 
dred feet  in  height, — Mongakuzan.  On  its  desolate 
summit  stands  a little  shrine. 

“ Takuhizan  ” signifies  The  Fire-burning  ^fountain, 
— a name  due  perhaps  either  to  the  legend  of  its 
ghostly  fires,  or  to  some  ancient  memory  of  its  vol- 
canic period.  “ Mongakuzan  ” means  The  Mountain 
of  ^longaku,  — INIongaku  Shonin,  the  great  monk. 
It  is  said  that  Mongaku  Shonin  fled  to  Oki,  and  that 
he  dwelt  alone  upon  the  top  of  that  mountain  many 
years,  doing  penance  for  his  deadly  sin.  Whether  he 
really  ever  visited  Oki,  I am  not  able  to  say ; thei’e 
are  traditions  which  declare  the  contrary.  But  the 
peaklet  has  borne  his  name  for  hundreds  of  years. 

Now  this  is  the  story  of  Mongaku  Shonin  : — 

Many  centuries  ago,  in  the  city  of  Kyoto,  there 
was  a captain  of  the  garrison  whose  name  was  Endd 
Moritd.  lie  saw  and  loved  the  wife  of  a noble 
samurai ; and  when  she  refused  to  listen  to  his  de- 


678  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


sires,  he  vowed  that  he  would  destroy  her  family  un- 
less she  consented  to  the  plan  which  he  submitted  to 
her.  The  plan  was  that  upon  a certain  night  she 
should  suffer  him  to  enter  her  liouse  and  to  kill  her 
husband  ; after  which  she  was  to  become  his  wife. 

But  she,  pretending  to  consent,  devised  a noble 
stratagem  to  save  her  honor.  For,  after  having  per- 
suaded her  husband  to  absent  himself  from  the  city, 
she  wrote  to  Endb  a letter,  bidding  him  come  upon  a 
certain  night  to  the  house.  And  on  that  night  she 
clad  herself  in  her  husband’s  robes,  and  made  her 
hair  like  the  hair  of  a man,  and  laid  herself  down  in 
her  husband’s  place,  and  pretended  to  sleep. 

And  Endo  came  in  the  dead  of  the  niglit  with  his 
sword  drawn,  and  smote  off  the  head  of  the  sleeper 
at  a blow,  and  seized  it  by  the  hair  and  lifted  it  up 
and  saw  it  was  the  head  of  the  woman  he  had  loved 
and  wronged. 

Then  a great  remorse  came  upon  him,  and  hasten- 
ing to  a neighboring  temple,  he  confessed  his  sin,  and 
did  penance,  and  cutoff  his  hair,  and  became  a monk, 
taking  the  name  of  INlongaku.  And  in  after  3’ears 
he  attained  to  great  holiness,  so  that  folk  still  pray 
to  him,  and  his  memory  is  venerated  throughout  the 
land. 

Now  at  Asakusa  in  Tokyo,  in  one  of  the  curious 
little  streets  which  lead  to  the  great  temjDle  of  Kwan- 
non  the  Merciful,  there  are  always  wonderful  images 
to  be  seen,  — figures  that  seem  alive,  though  made  of 
wood  only,  — figures  illustrating  the  ancient  legends 
of  Japan.  And  there  you  ma^'  see  Endo  standing  : 
in  his  riifht  hand  the  reekin"  sword  : in  his  left  the 
head  of  a beautiful  woman.  The  face  of  the  woman 
you  may  forget  soon,  because  it  is  only  beautiful. 


FROM  HOKI  TO  OKI.  579 

But  the  face  of  Endo  you  will  not  forget,  because  it 
is  naked  hell. 

X. 

Urago  is  a queer  little  town,  perhaps  quite  as  large 
as  Mioiioseki,  and  built,  like  Mionoseki,  on  a narrow 
ledge  at  the  base  of  a steep  semicircle  of  hills.  But  it 
is  much  more  primitive  and  colorless  than  Mionoseki ; 
and  its  houses  are  still  more  closely  cramped  between 
cliffs  and  water,  so  that  its  streets,  or  rather  alleys, 
are  no  wider  than  gangways.  As  we  cast  anchor,  my 
attention  was  suddenly  riveted  by  a strange  spectacle, 
— a white  wilderness  of  long  fluttering  vague  shapes, 
in  a cemetery  on  the  steep  hillside,  rising  by  terraces 
high  above  the  roofs  of  the  town.  The  cemetery  was 
full  of  gray  haka  and  images  of  divinities ; and  over 
every  haka  there  was  a curious  white  paper  banner 
fastened  to  a thin  bamboo  pole.  Througli  a glass 
one  could  see  that  these  banners  were  inscribed  with 
Buddhist  texts,  — “ Kamu  - myd  - ho  - rertye  - kyd  ; ” 
“ Naviu  Amida  Butsu  ; ” “ Namu  Daiji  Bai-hi  Kwan- 
ze-on  Bosatsu,"  — and  other  holy  words.  Upon  in- 
quiry I learned  that  it  was  an  Urago  custom  to 
place  these  banners  every  year  above  the  graves  dur- 
ing one  whole  month  preceding  the  Festival  of  the 
Dead,  together  with  various  other  ornamental  or 
symbolic  things. 

The  water  was  full  of  naked  swimmers,  who 
shouted  laughing  welcomes;  and  a host  of  light,  swift 
boats,  sculled  by  naked  fishermen,  darted  out  to  look 
for  passengers  and  freight.  It  was  my  first  chance 
to  observe  the  physique  of  Oki  islanders  ; and  I was 
much  impressed  by  the  vigorous  appearance  of  both 
men  and  boys.  The  adults  seemed  to  me  of  a taller 
and  more  powerful  type  than  the  men  of  the  Izumo 


580  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


coast ; and  not  a few  of  those  brown  backs  and  shoul- 
ders displayed,  in  the  motion  of  sculling,  what  is 
comparatively  rare  in  Japan,  even  among  men  picked 
for  heavy  labor,  — a magnificent  development  of 
muscles. 

As  the  steamer  stopped  an  hour  at  Urago,  we  had 
time  to  dine  ashore  in  the  chief  hotel.  It  was  a very 
clean  and  pretty  hotel,  and  the  fare  infinitely  su- 
perior to  that  of  the  hotel  at  Sakai.  Yet  the  price 
charged  was  only  seven  sen  ; and  the  old  landlord 
refused  to  accept  the  whole  of  the  chadai-gift  offered 
him,  retaining  less  than  half,  and  putting  back  the 
rest,  with  gentle  force,  into  the  sleeve  of  my  yukata. 


XI. 

From  Urago  we  proceeded  to  Hishi-ura,  which  is 
in  Nakanoshima,  and  the  scenery  grew  always  more 
wonderful  as  we  steamed  between  the  islands.  The 
channel  was  just  wide  enough  to  create  the  illusion 
of  a grand  river  flowing  with  the  stillness  of  vast 
depth  between  mountains  of  a hundred  forms.  Tlie 
long  lovely  vision  was  everywhere  walled  in  by  peaks, 
bluing  through  sea-haze,  and  on  either  hand  the 
ruddy  gray  cliffs,  sheering  up  from  profundity, 
sharply  mirrored  their  least  asperities  in  the  flood 
with  never  a distortion,  as  in  a sheet  of  steel.  Not 
until  we  reached  Ilishi-ura  did  the  horizon  reappear; 
and  even  then  it  was  visible  only  between  two  lofty 
headlands,  as  if  seen  through  a river’s  mouth. 

Hishi-ura  is  far  prettier  than  Urago,  but  it  is  much 
less  populous,  and  has  the  aspect  of  a prosperous 
agricultural  town,  rather  than  of  a fishing  station. 
It  bends  round  a bay  formed  by  low  hills  which  slope 


FROM  HOKI  TO  OKI. 


581 


back  gradually  toward  the  mountainous  interior,  and 
which  display  a considerable  extent  of  cultivated  sur- 
face. The  buildings  are  somewhat  scattered,  and 
in  many  cases  isolated  by  gardens ; and  those  facing 
the  water  are  quite  handsome  modern  constructions. 
Urago  boasts  the  best  hotel  in  all  Oki ; and  it  has 
two  new  temples,  — one  a Buddhist  temple  of  the  Zen 
sect,  one  a Shinto  temple  of  the  Izumo  Taisha  faith, 
each  the  gift  of  a single  person.  A rich  widow,  the 
owner  of  the  hotel,  built  the  Buddhist  temple  ; and 
the  wealthiest  of  the  mei'chants  contributed  the  other, 
— one  of  the  handsomest  miya  for  its  size  that  1 ever 
saw. 

xn. 

Dogo,  the  main  island  of  the  Oki  archipelago, 
sometimes  itself  called  “ Oki,”  lies  at  a distance  of 
eight  miles,  northeast  of  the  Dozen  group,  beyond  a 
stretch  of  very  dangerous  sea.  We  made  for  it  im- 
mediately after  leaving  Urago  ; passing  to  the  open 
through  a narrow  and  fantastic  strait  between  Na- 
kanoshima  and  Nishinoshima,  where  the  cliffs  take 
the  form  of  enormous  fortifications,  — bastions  and 
ramparts,  rising  by  tiers.  Three  colossal  rocks,  an- 
ciently forming  but  a single  mass,  which  would  seem 
to  have  been  divided  by  some  tremendous  shock, 
rise  from  deep  water  near  the  mouth  of  the  channel, 
like  shattered  towers.  And  the  last  promontory  of 
Nishinoshima,  which  we  pass  to  port,  a huge  red 
naked  rock,  turns  to  the  horizon  a point  so  strangely 
shaped  that  it  has  been  called  by  a name  signifying 
“ The  Hat  of  the  Shinto  priest.” 

As  we  glide  out  into  the  swell  of  the  sea  other  ex- 
traordinary shapes  appear,  rising  from  great  depths. 
Komori,  “ The  Bat,”  a ragged  silhouette  against  the 


582  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


horizon,  has  a great  hole  worn  through  it,  which 
glares  like  an  eye.  Farther  out  two  bulks,  curved 
and  pointed,  and  almost  joined  at  the  top,  bear  a 
grotesque  resemblance  to  the  uplifted  pincers  of  a 
crab  ; and  there  is  also  visible  a small  dark  mass 
which,  until  closely  approached,  seems  the  figure  of  a 
man  sculling  a boat.  Beyond  these  are  two  islands : 
IVlatsushima,  uninhabited  and  inaccessible,  where 
there  is  always  a swell  to  beware  of ; Omorishiina, 
even  loftier,  which  rises  from  the  ocean  in  enormous 
ruddy  precipices.  There  seemed  to  be  some  grim 
force  in  those  sinister  bulks ; some  occult  power 
which  made  our  steamer  reel  and  shiver  as  she  passed 
them.  But  I saw  a marvelous  effect  of  color  under 
those  formidable  cliffs  of  Omorishima.  They  were 
lighted  by  a slanting  sun ; and  where  the  glow  of 
the  bright  rock  fell  upon  the  water,  each  black-blue 
ripple  flashed  bronze  : I thought  of  a sea  of  metallic 
violet  ink. 

From  Dozen  the  cliffs  of  Dogo  can  be  cleaidy  seen 
when  the  weather  is  not  foul : they  are  streaked  here 
and  there  with  chalky  white,  which  breaks  through 
their  blue,  even  in  time  of  haze.  Above  them  a 
vast  bulk  is  visible,  — a point-de-repere  for  the  mar- 
iners of  Hoki,  — the  mountain  of  Daimanji.  Dogo, 
indeed,  is  one  great  cluster  of  mountains. 

Its  cliffs  rapidly  turned  green  for  us,  and  we  fol- 
lowed them  eastwardly  for  perhaps  half  an  hour. 
Then  they  opened  unexpectedly  and  widely,  reveal- 
ing a superb  bay,  widening  far  into  the  land,  sur- 
rounded by  hills,  and  full  of  shipping.  Beyond  a 
confusion  of  masts  there  crept  into  view  a long  gray 
line  of  house-fronts,  at  the  base  of  a crescent  of 
cliffs,  — the  city  of  Saigo;  and  in  a little  while  we 


FROM  HOKI  TO  OKI. 


583 


touched  a wharf  of  stone.  There  I bade  farewell  for 
a month  to  the  Oki-Saigo. 

XIII. 

Saigo  was  a great  surprise.  Instead  of  the  big 
fishing  village  I had  expected  to  see,  I found  a city 
much  larger  and  handsomer  and  in  all  respects  more 
modernized  than  Sakai;  a city  of  long  streets  full  of 
good  shops;  a city  with  excellent  public  buildings; 
a city  of  which  the  whole  a})pearance  indicated  com- 
mercial prosperity.  Most  of  the  edifices  were  roomy 
two-story  dwellings  of  merchants,  and  everything  had 
a bright,  new  look.  Tlie  unjiainted  woodwork  of 
the  houses  had  not  yet  darkened  into  gray  ; the  blue 
tints  of  the  tiling  were  still  fresh.  I learned  that 
this  was  because  the  town  had  been  recently  rebuilt, 
after  a conflagration,  and  rebuilt  upon  a larger  and 
handsomer  plan. 

Saigo  seems  still  larger  than  it  really  is.  There 
are  about  one  thousand  houses,  which  number  in  any 
part  of  Western  Japan  means  a j)opulation  of  at  least 
five  thousand,  but  must  mean  considerably  more  in 
Saigo.  These  form  three  long  streets,  — Nishimachi, 
Nakamachi,  and  Higashimachi  (names  respectively 
signifying  the  Western,  Middle,  and  Eastern  Streets), 
bisected  by  numerous  cross-streets  and  alleys.  What 
makes  the  place  seem  disproportionately  large  is  the 
queer  way  the  streets  twist  about,  following  the 
irregularities  of  the  shore,  and  even  doubling  upon 
themselves,  so  as  to  create  from  certain  points  of 
view  an  impression  of  depth  which  has  no  existence. 
For  Saigo  is  peculiarly,  although  admirably  situated. 
It  fringes  both  banks  of  a river,  the  Yabigawa,  near 
its  mouth,  and  likewise  extends  round  a large  point 

VOL.  II. 


584  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


within  the  splendid  bay,  besides  stretching  itself  out 
upon  various  tongues  of  land.  But  though  smaller 
than  it  looks,  to  walk  through  all  its  serpentine 
streets  is  a good  afternoon’s  work. 

Besides  being  divided  by  the  Yabigawa,  the  town 
is  intersected  by  various  water-ways,  crossed  by  a 
number  of  bridges.  On  the  hills  behind  it  stand 
‘several  large  buildings,  including  a public  scliool, 
with  accommodation  for  three  hundred  students; 
a pretty  Buddhist  temple  (quite  new),  the  gift  of  a 
rich  citizen  ; a prison  ; and  a hospital,  which  deserves 
its  reputation  of  being  for  its  size  the  handsomest 
Japanese  edifice  not  only  in  Oki,  but  in  all  Shimane- 
Ken  ; and  there  are  several  small  but  very  pretty 
gardens. 

As  for  the  harbor,  you  can  count  more  than  three 
hundred  ships  riding  there  of  a summer’s  day.  Gx’um- 
blers,  especially  of  the  kind  who  still  use  wooden 
anchors,  complain  of  the  depth ; but  the  men-of-war 
do  not. 

XIV. 

Never,  in  any  part  of  Western  Japan,  have  I been 
made  more  comfortable  than  at  Saigo.  My  friend 
and  myself  were  the  only  guests  at  the  hotel  to 
which  we  had  been  recommended.  The  broad  and 
lofty  rooms  of  the  upper  floor  which  we  occupied 
overlooked  the  main  street  on  one  side,  and  on  the 
other  commanded  a beautiful  mountain  landscape 
beyond  the  mouth  of  the  Yabigawa,  which  flowed 
by  our  garden.  The  sea  breeze  never  failed  by 
day  or  by  night,  and  rendered  needless  those  pretty 
fans  which  it  is  the  Japanese  custom  to  present  to 
guests  during  the  hot  season.  The  fare  was  aston- 
ishingly good,  and  curiously  varied ; and  I was  told 


FROM  HOKI  TO  OKI. 


585 


that  I might  order  Seyo-ryori  (Occidental  cook- 
ing) if  I wished,  — beefsteak  with  fried  potatoes, 
roast  chicken,  and  so  forth.  I did  not  avail  myself 
of  the  offer,  as  I make  it  a rule  wliile  traveling 
to  escape  trouble  by  keeping  to  a purely  Japanese 
diet;  but  it  was  no  small  surprise  to  be  offered  in 
Saigo  what  is  almost  impossible  to  obtain  in  any 
other  Japanese  town  of  five  thousand  inhabitants. 
From  a romantic  point  of  view,  however,  this  dis- 
covery was  a disappointment.  Having  made  my  way 
into  the  most  primitive  region  of  all  Japan,  I had 
imagined  myself  far  beyond  the  range  of  all  modern- 
izing influences ; and  the  suggestion  of  beefsteak 
with  fried  potatoes  was  a disillusion.  Nor  was  I 
entirely'  consoled  by  tlie  subsequent  discovery'  that 
there  were  no  newspapers  or  telegrajjhs. 

But  there  was  one  serious  hindrance  to  the  enjoy- 
ment of  these  comforts:  an  omnipresent,  frightful, 
heavy,  all-penetrating  smell,  the  smell  of  decompos- 
ing fish,  used  as  a fertilizer.  Tons  and  tons  of  cuttle- 
fish entrails  are  used  upon  the  fields  beyond  the  Ya- 
bigawa,  and  the  never-sleeping  sea  wind  blows  the 
stench  into  every  dwelling.  Vainly  do  they  keep 
incense  burning  in  most  of  the  houses  during  the 
heated  term.  After  having  i-emained  three  or  four 
day's  constantly  in  the  city'  y'ou  become  better  able  to 
endure  this  odor ; but  if  you  should  leave  town  even 
for  a few  hours  only,  you  will  be  astonished  on  re- 
turning to  discover  how  much  your  nose  had  been 
numbed  by  habit  and  refreshed  by  absence. 


XV. 

On  the  morning  of  the  day  after  my  arrival  at 
Saigo,  a y'oung  physician  called  to  see  me,  and  re- 


586  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


quested  me  to  dine  with  him  at  his  liouse.  He  ex- 
plained very  frankly  that  as  I was  the  first  foreigner 
who  had  ever  stopped  in  Saigo,  it  would  afford  much 
pleasure  both  to  his  family  and  to  himself  to  have  a 
good  chance  to  see  me  ; but  the  natural  courtesy  of 
the  man  overcame  any  scruple  I miglit  have  felt  to 
gratify  the  curiosity  of  strangers.  1 was  not  only 
treated  charmingly  at  his  beautiful  home,  but  actu- 
ally sent  away  loaded  with  presents,  most  of  which  I 
attempted  to  decline  in  vain.  In  one  matter,  how- 
ever, I remained  obstinate,  even  at  the  risk  of  offend- 
ing, — the  gift  of  a wonderful  specimen  of  bateiseki  (a 
substance  which  I shall  speak  of  hereafter).  This  I 
persisted  in  refusing  to  take,  knowing  it  to  be  not 
only  very  costly,  but  very  rare.  My  host  at  last 
yielded,  but  afterwards  secretly  sent  to  the  hotel  two 
smaller  specimens,  which  Japanese  etiquette  rendered 
it  impossible  to  return.  Before  leaving  Saigo,  I ex- 
perienced many  other  unexpected  kindnesses  from 
the  same  gentleman. 

Not  long  after,  one  of  the  teachers  of  the  Saigo 
public  school  paid  me  a visit.  He  had  heard  of  my 
interest  in  Oki,  and  brought  with  him  two  fine  maps 
of  the  islands  made  by  himself,  a little  book  about 
Saigo,  and,  as  a gift,  a collection  of  Oki  butterflies 
and  insects  which  he  had  made.  It  is  only  in  Japan 
that  one  is  likely  to  meet  with  these  wonderful  ex- 
hibitions of  pure  goodness  on  the  part  of  perfect 
strangers. 

A tliird  visitor,  who  had  called  to  see  my  friend, 
performed  an  action  equally  characteristic,  but  which 
caused  me  not  a little  pain.  We  squatted  down  to 
smoke  together.  He  drew  from  his  girdle  a remark- 
ably beautiful  tobacco-pouch  and  pipe-case,  containing 


FROM  HOKI  TO  OKI. 


587 


a little  silvei*  pipe,  which  he  began  to  smoke.  The 
pipe-case  was  made  of  a sort  of  black  coral,  curiously 
carved,  and  attached  to  the  tabako-ire,  or  pouch,  by 
a heavy  cord  of  plaited  silk  of  three  colors,  passed 
through  a ball  of  transparent  agate.  Seeing  me  ad- 
mire it,  he  suddenly  drew  a knife  from  his  sleeve, 
and  before  I could  prevent  him,  severed  the  pipe-case 
from  the  pouch,  and  presented  it  to  me.  I felt  al- 
most as  if  he  had  cut  one  of  his  own  nerves  asunder 
when  he  cut  that  wonderful  cord ; and,  neverthe- 
less, once  this  had  been  done,  to  refuse  the  gift  would 
have  been  rude  in  the  extreme.  I made  him  accept 
a present  in  return  ; but  after  that  experience  I was 
careful  never  again  while  in  Oki  to  admire  anything 
in  the  presence  of  its  owner. 

XVI. 

Every  province  of  Japan  has  its  own  peculiar  dia- 
lect ; and  that  of  Oki,  as  might  be  expected  in  a 
country  so  isolated,  is  particularly  distinct.  In  Saigo, 
however,  the  Izumo  dialect  is  largely  used.  The 
townsfolk  in  their  manners  and  customs  much  re- 
semble Izumo  country-folk  ; indeed,  there  are  many 
Izumo  people  among  them,  most  of  the  large  busi- 
nesses being  in  the  hands  of  strangers.  The  women 
did  not  imjjress  me  as  being  so  attractive  as  those  of 
Izumo : I saw  several  very  pretty  girls,  but  these 
proved  to  be  strangers. 

However,  it  is  only  in  the  country  that  one  can 
properly  study  the  physical  characteristics  of  a popu- 
lation. Those  of  the  Oki  islanders  ma)’  best  be  noted 
at  the  fishing  villages,  many  of  which  I visited. 
Everywhere  I saw  fine  sti’ong  men  and  vigorous  wo- 
men ; and  it  struck  me  that  the  extraordinary  plenty 


588  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


and  cheapness  of  nutritive  food  had  quite  as  much  to 
do  with  this  robustness  as  climate  and  constant  exer- 
cise. So  easy,  indeed,  is  it  to  live  in  Oki,  that  men 
of  other  coasts^,  who  find  existence  difficult,  emigrate 
to  Oki  if  they  can  get  a chance  to  work  there,  even 
at  less  remuneration.  An  interesting  spectacle  to  me 
were  the  vast  processions  of  fishing-vessels  which  al- 
ways, weather  permitting,  began  to  shoot  out  to  sea 
a couple  of  hours  before  sundown.  The  surprising 
swiftness  with  which  those  light  craft  were  impelled 
by  their  sinewy  scullers  — many  of  whom  were 
women  — told  of  a skill  acquired  only  through  the 
patient  experience  of  generations.  Another  matter 
that  amazed  me  was  the  number  of  boats.  One 
night  in  the  offing  I was  able  to  count  three  hundred 
and  five  torch-fires  in  sight,  each  one  signifying  a 
crew ; and  I knew  that  from  almost  any  of  the  forty- 
five  coast  villages  I might  see  the  same  spectacle  at 
the  same  time.  The  main  part  of  the  population,  in 
fact,  spends  its  summer  nights  at  sea.  It  is  also  a 
revelation  to  travel  fi’om  Izumo  to  Hamada  by  night 
upon  a swift  steamer  during  the  fishing  season.  The 
horizon  for  a hundred  miles  is  alight  with  torch-fires  ; 
the  toil  of  a whole  coast  is  revealed  in  that  vast  illu- 
mination. 

Although  the  human  population  appears  to  have 
gained  rather  than  lost  vigor  upon  this  barren  soil, 
the  horseS  and  cattle  of  the  country  seem  to  have  de- 
generated. They  are  remarkably  diminutive.  I saw 
cows  not  much  bigger  than  Izumo  calves,  with  calves 
about  the  size  of  goats.  The  horses,  or  rather  ponies, 
belong  to  a special  breed  of  which  Oki  is  rather 
proud,  — very  small,  but  hardy.  I was  told  that 


FROM  HOKI  TO  OKI. 


589 


there  were  larger  horses,  but  I saw  none,  and  could 
not  learn  whether  they  were  imported.  It  seemed  to 
me  a curious  thing,  when  I saw  Oki  ponies  for  the 
first  time,  that  Sasaki  Takatsuna’s  battle-steed  — 
not  less  famous  in  Japanese  story  than  the  horse 
Kyrat  in  the  ballads  of  Kurroglou  — is  declared  by 
the  islanders  to  have  been  a native  of  Oki.  And 
they  have  a tradition  that  it  once  swam  from  Oki  to 
Mionoseki. 

X\TI. 

Almost  every  district  and  town  in  Japan  has  its 
meibutsu  or  its  kembutsu.  The  meibutsu  of  any 
place  are  its  special  productions,  whether  natural  or 
artificial.  The  kembutsu  of  a town  or  district  are 
its  sights,  — its  places  worth  visiting  for  any  reason, 
— religious,  traditional,  historical,  or  pleasurable. 
Temples  and  gardens,  remarkable  trees  and  curious 
rocks,  are  kembutsu.  So,  likewise,  are  any  situations 
from  which  beautiful  scenery  may  be  looked  at,  or 
any  localities  where  one  can  enjoy  such  charming 
spectacles  as  the  blossoming  of  cherry-trees  in  spring, 
the  flickeringr  of  fireflies  in  summer  nights,  the  flush- 
ing  of  maple-leaves  in  autumn,  or  even  that  long 
snaky  motion  of  moonlight  upon  water  to  which 
Chinese  poets  have  given  the  delightful  name  of 
Kinryo,  “ the  Golden  Dragon.” 

The  great  meibutsu  of  Oki  is  the  same  as  that  of  Hi- 
nomisaki,  — dried  cuttlefish  ; an  article  of  food  much 
in  demand  both  in  China  and  Japan.  The  cuttlefish 
of  Oki  and  Hinomisaki  and  Mionoseki  are  all  termed 
ika  (a  kind  of  sepia)  ; but  those  caught  at  Miono- 
seki  are  white  and  average  fifteen  inches  in  length, 
while  those  of  Oki  and  Hinomisaki  rarely  exceed 


590  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


twelve  inches  and  have  a reddish  tinge.  The  fish- 
eries of  Mionoseki  and  Hinomisaki  are  scarcely 
known  ; but  the  fisheries  of  Oki  are  famed  not  only 
throughout  Japan,  but  also  in  Korea  and  China. 
It  is  only  through  the  tilling  of  the  sea  that  the 
islands  have  become  prosperous  and  capable  of  sup- 
porting thirty  thousand  souls  upon  a coast  of  which 
but  a very  small  portion  can  be  cultivated  at  all. 
Enormous  quantities  of  cuttlefish  are  shipped  to  the 
mainland ; but  I have  been  told  that  the  Chinese  are 
the  best  customers  of  Oki  for  this  product.  Should 
the  supply  ever  fail,  the  result  would  be  disastrous  be- 
yond conception  ; but  at  present  it  seems  inexhausti- 
ble, though  the  fishing  has  been  going  on  for  thou- 
sands of  years.  Hundreds  of  tons  of  cuttlefish  are 
caught,  cured,  and  prepared  for  exportation  month 
after  month ; and  many  hundreds  of  acres  are  fertil- 
ized with  the  entrails  and  other  refuse.  An  otficer 
of  police  told  me  several  strange  facts  about  this 
fishery.  On  the  northeastern  coast  of  Saigo  it  is  no 
uncommon  thing  for  one  fisherman  to  capture  up- 
wards of  two  thousand  cuttlefish  in  a single  night. 
Boats  have  been  burst  asunder  by  the  weight  of  a 
few  hauls,  and  caution  has  to  be  observed  in  loadinsr. 
Besides  the  sepia,  however,  this  coast  swarms  with 
another  variety  of  cuttlefish  which  also  furnishes  a 
food-staple,  — the  formidable  tako,  or  true  octopus, 
d'ako  weighing  fifteen  kwan  each,  or  nearly  one  hun- 
dred and  twenty-five  pounds,  are  sometimes  caught 
near  the  fishing  settlement  of  Nakamura.  I was  sur- 
prised to  learn  that  there  was  no  record  of  any  per- 
son having  been  injured  by  these  monstrous  crea- 
tures. 

Another  meibutsu  of  Oki  is  much  less  known  than 


FROM  HUKI  TO  OKI. 


591 


it  deserves  to  be,  — the  beiintiful  jet-black  stone  called 
bateiseki,  or  liorse-boof  stone.”  ^ It  is  found  only 
in  Dogo,  and  never  in  large  masses.  It  is  about  as 
heavy  as  flint,  and  chips  like  flint ; but  the  polish 
which  it  takes  is  like  that  of  agate.  There  are  no 
veins  or  specks  in  it ; the  intense  black  color  never 
varies.  Artistic  objects  are  made  of  bateiseki : ink- 
stones,  wine-cups,  little  boxes,  small  dai,  or  stands 
for  vases  or  statuettes  ; even  jewelry,  the  material 
being  worked  in  the  same  manner  as  the  beautiful 
agates  of  Yumachi  in  Izumo.  These  articles  are 
comparatively  costly,  even  in  the  place  of  their 
manufacture. 

There  is  an  odd  legend  about  the  origin  of  the 
bateiseki.  It  owes  its  name  to  some  fancied  resem- 
blance to  a horse’s  hoof,  either  in  color,  or  in  the 
semicircular  marks  often  seen  upon  the  stone  in  its 
natural  state,  and  caused  by  its  tendency  to  split  in 
curved  lines.  But  the  story  goes  that  the  bateiseki 
was  formed  by  the  touch  of  the  hoofs  of  a sacred 
steed,  the  wonderful  mare  of  the  great  Minamoto  war- 
rior, Sasaki  Takatsuna.  She  had  a foal,  which  fell 
into  a deep  lake  in  Ddgo,  and  was  drowned.  She 
plunged  into  the  lake  herself,  but  could  not  find  her 
foal,  being  deceived  by  the  reflection  of  her  own 
head  in  the  water.  For  a long  time  she  sought  and 
mourned  in  vain  ; but  even  the  hard  rocks  felt  for 
her,  and  where  her  hoofs  touched  them  beneath  the 
water  they  became  changed  into  bateiseki.^ 

Scai'cely  less  beautiful  than  bateiseki,  and  equally 
black,  is  another  Oki-meibutsu,  a sort  of  coralline 

1 It  seems  to  be  a black  obsidian. 

® There  are  several  other  versions  of  this  legend.  In  one,  it  is  the 
mare,  and  not  the  fo;il,  which  was  drowned. 


592  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


marine  product  called  umi-matsu,  or  “sea -pine.” 
Pipe-cases,  brush-stands,  and  other  small  articles  are 
manufactured  from  it  ; and  these  when  polished 
seem  to  be  covered  with  black  lacquer.  Objects  of 
umi-matsu  are  rare  and  dear. 

Nacre  wares,  however,  are  very  cheap  in  Oki ; and 
these  form  another  variety  of  meibutsu.  The  shells 
of  the  awabi,  or  “ sea-ear,”  which  reaches  a surpris- 
ing size  in  these  western  waters,  are  converted  by 
skillful  polishing  and  cutting  into  wonderful  dishes, 
bowls,  cups,  and  other  articles,  over  whose  surfaces 
the  play  of  iridescence  is  like  a flickering  of  fire  of  a 
hundred  colors. 


XYIII. 

According  to  a little  book  published  at  Matsue, 
the  keinbutsu  of  Oki-no-Kuni  are  divided  among 
three  of  the  four  principal  islands ; Chiburishima 
only  possessing  nothing  of  special  interest.  For 
many  generations  the  attractions  of  Dogo  have  been 
the  shrine  of  Agonashi  Jizo,  at  Tsubamezato ; the 
waterfall  (Dangyo-taki)  at  Yuenimura;  the  mighty 
cedar-tree  (^sugi)  before  the  shrine  of  Tama-Wakusa- 
jinja  at  Shimomura,  and  the  lakelet  called  Sai-no- 
ike  where  the  bateiseki  is  said  to  be  found.  Naka- 
noshima  possesses  the  tomb  of  the  exiled  Emperor 
Go-Toba,  at  Amainura,  and  the  residence  of  the  an- 
cient Choja,  Shikekuro,  where  he  dwelt  betimes,  and 
where  relics  of  him  are  kept  even  to  this  day.  Ni- 
shinoshima  possesses  at  Beppu  a shrine  in  memory  of 
the  exiled  Emperor  Go-Daigo,  and  on  the  summit  of 
Takuhizan  that  shrine  of  Gongen-Sama,  from  the 
place  of  which  a wonderful  view  of  the  whole  archi- 
pelago is  said  to  be  obtainable  on  cloudless  days. 


FROM  HOKI  TO  OKI. 


593 


Though  Cbiburishima  has  no  kembutsu,  her  poor 
little  village  of  Cbiburi  — the  same  Chiburimura  at 
which  the  Oki  steamer  always  touches  on  her  way  to 
Saigo  — is  the  scene  of  perhaps  the  most  interesting 
of  all  the  traditions  of  the  archipelago. 

Five  hundred  and  sixty  years  ago,  the  exiled 
Emperor  Go-Daigo  managed  to  escape  from  the 
observation  of  his  guards,  and  to  flee  from  Nishino- 
shima  to  Cbiburi.  And  the  brown  sailors  of  that 
little  hamlet  offered  to  serve  him,  even  with  their 
lives  if  need  be.  They  were  loading  their  boats 
with  “ dried  fish,”  doubtless  the  same  dried  cuttlefish 
which  their  descendants  still  carry  to  Izumo  and  to 
Hoki.  The  emperor  promised  to  remember  them, 
should  they  succeed  in  landing  him  either  in  Hoki  or 
in  Izumo ; and  they  put  him  in  a boat. 

But  when  they  had  sailed  only  a little  way  they 
saw  the  pursuing  vessels.  Then  they  told  the  em- 
peror to  lie  down,  and  they  piled  the  dried  fish  high 
above  him.  The  pursuers  came  on  board  and 
searched  the  boat,  but  they  did  not  even  think  of 
touching  the  strong-smelling  cuttlefish.  And  when 
the  men  of  Cbiburi  were  questioned  they  invented 
a story,  and  gave  to  the  enemies  of  the  emperor  a 
false  clue  to  follow.  And  so,  by  means  of  the  cuttle- 
fish, the  good  emperor  was  enabled  to  escape  from 
banishment. 

XIX. 

I found  there  were  various  difficulties  in  the  way 
of  becoming  acquainted  with  some  of  the  kembutsu. 
There  are  no  roads,  properly  speaking,  in  all  Oki, 
only  mountain  paths ; and  consequently  there  are  no 
jinrikisha,  with  the  exception  of  one  especially  im- 
ported by  the  leading  physician  of  Saigo,  and  availa- 


594  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


ble  for  use  only  in  the  streets.  There  are  not  even 
any  kago,  or  palanquins,  except  one  for  the  use  of 
the  same  physician.  The  paths  are  terribly  rough, 
according  to  the  testimony  of  the  strong  peasants 
themselves ; and  the  distances,  particularly  in  the 
hottest  period  of  the  year,  are  disheartening.  Ponies 
can  be  hired ; but  my  experiences  of  a similar  wild 
country  in  western  Izumo  persuaded  me  that  neither 
pleasure  nor  profit  was  to  be  gained  by  a long  and 
painful  ride  over  pine-covered  hills,  through  slippery 
gullies  and  along  torrent-beds,  merely  to  look  at  a 
waterfall.  I abandoned  the  idea  of  visiting  Dangyo- 
taki,  but  resolved,  if  possible,  to  see  Agonashi-Jizo. 

I had  first  heard  in  Matsue  of  Agonashi-Jizo, 
while  suffering  from  one  of  those  toothaches  in 
which  the  pain  appears  to  be  several  hundred  miles 
in  depth,  — one  of  those  toothaches  which  disturb 
your  ideas  of  space  and  time.  And  a friend  who 
sympathized  said : — 

“People  who  have  toothache  pray  to  Agonashi- 
Jizo.  Agonashi-Jizo  is  in  Oki,  but  Izumo  people 
pray  to  him.  When  cured  they  go  to  Lake  Shinji, 
to  the  river,  to  the  sea,  or  to  any  running  stream, 
and  drop  into  the  water  twelve  pears  (jiashi),  one  for 
each  of  the  twelve  months.  And  they  believe  the 
currents  will  carry  all  these  to  Oki  across  the  sea. 

“Now,  Agonashi-Jizo  means  ‘ Jizo-who-has-no- 
Jaw.’  For  it  is  said  that  in  one  of  his  former  lives 
Jizd  had  such  a toothache  in  his  lower  jaw  that  he 
tore  oil  his  jaw,  and  threw  it  away,  and  died.  And 
he  became  a Bosatsu.  And  the  people  of  Oki  made 
a statue  of  him  without  a jaw ; and  all  who  suffer 
toothache  pray  to  that  Jizo  of  Oki.” 


FROM  HOKI  TO  OKI. 


595 


This  story  interested  me;  for  more  than  once  I had 
felt  a strong  desire  to  do  like  Agonashi-Jizo,  though 
lacking  the  necessary  courage  and  indifference  to 
earthly  consequences.  Moreover,  the  tradition  sug- 
gested so  humane  and  profound  a comprehension  of 
toothache,  and  so  large  a sympathy  with  its  victims, 
that  I felt  myself  somewhat  consoled. 

Nevertheless,  I did  not  go  to  see  Agonashi-Jizo,  be- 
cause I found  out  there  was  no  longer  any  Agonashi- 
Jizo  to  see.  The  news  was  brought  one  evening  by 
some  friends,  shizoku  of  Matsue,  who  had  settled  in 
Oki,  a young  police  officer  and  his  wife.  They  had 
walked  right  across  the  island  to  see  us,  starting  be- 
fore daylight,  and  crossing  no  less  than  thirty-two 
torrents  on  their  way.  The  wife,  only  nineteen, 
was  quite  slender  and  pretty,  and  did  not  appear 
tired  by  that  long  rough  journey. 

What  we  learned  about  the  famous  Jizo  was  this : 
The  name  Agonashi-Jizo  was  only  a popular  corrup- 
tion of  the  true  name,  Agonaoshi-Jiz5,  or  “ Jizo-the- 
Healer-of-Jaws.”  The  little  temple  in  which  the 
statue  stood  had  been  burned,  and  the  statue  along 
with  it,  except  a fragment  of  the  lower  part  of  the 
figure,  now  piously  preserved  by  some  old  peasant 
woman.  It  was  impossible  to  rebuild  the  temple,  as 
the  disestablishment  of  Buddhism  had  entirely  de- 
stroyed the  resources  of  that  faith  in  Oki.  But  the 
peasantry  of  Tsubamezato  had  built  a little  Shint5 
miya  on  the  site  of  the  temple,  with  a torii  before  it, 
and  people  still  prayed  there  to  Agonaoshi-Jizo. 

This  last  curious  fact  reminded  me  of  the  little 
torii  I had  seen  erected  before  the  images  of  Jizo  in 
the  Cave  of  the  Children’s  Ghosts.  Shinto,  in  these 


596  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


remote  districts  of  the  west,  now  appropriates  the 
popular  divinities  of  Buddhism,  just  as  of  old  Bud- 
dhism used  to  absorb  the  divinities  of  Shinto  in  other 
parts  of  Japan. 

XX. 

I went  to  the  Sai-no-ike,  and  to  Tama-Wakasu- 
jinja,  as  these  two  kembutsu  can  be  reached  by 
boat.  The  Sai-no-ike,  however,  much  disappointed 
me.  It  can  only  be  visited  in  very  calm  weather, 
as  the  way  to  it  lies  along  a frightfully  dangerous 
coast,  nearly  all  sheer  precipice.  But  the  sea  is 
beautifully  clear,  and  the  eye  can  distinguish  forms 
at  an  immense  depth  below  the  surface.  After  fol- 
lowing the  cliffs  for  about  an  hour,  the  boat  reaches 
a sort  of  cove,  whei’e  the  beach  is  entirely  composed 
of  small  round  boulders.  They  form  a long  ridge, 
the  outer  verge  of  which  is  always  in  motion,  rolling 
to  and  fro  with  a crash  like  a volley  of  musketry  at 
the  rush  and  ebb  of  every  wave.  To  climb  over  this 
ridge  of  moving  stone  balls  is  quite  disagreeable  ; but 
after  that  one  has  only  about  twenty  yards  to  walk, 
and  the  Sai-no-ike  appears,  surrounded  on  three  sides 
by  wooded  hills.  It  is  little  more  than  a large  fresh- 
water pool,  perhaps  fifty  yards  wide,  not  in  any  way 
wonderful.  You  can  see  no  I’ocks  under  the  surface, — 
only  mud  and  pebbles.  That  any  part  of  it  was 
ever  deep  enough  to  drown  a foal  is  hard  to  believe. 
I wanted  to  swim  across  to  the  farther  side  to  try  the 
depth,  but  the  mere  proposal  scandalized  the  boat- 
men. The  pool  was  sacred  to  the  gods,  and  was 
guarded  by  invisible  monsters ; to  enter  it  was  impi- 
ous and  dangerous.  I felt  obliged  to  respect  the 
local  ideas  on  the  subject,  and  contented  myself  with 
inquiring  where  the  bateiseki  was  found.  They 


FROM  HOKI  TO  OKI. 


597 


pointed  to  the  hill  on  the  western  side  of  the  water. 
This  indication  did  not  tally  with  the  legend.  I 
could  discover  no  trace  of  any  human  labor  on  that 
savage  hillside ; there  was  certainly  no  habitation 
within  miles  of  the  place ; it  was  the  very  abomina- 
tion of  desolation. 1 

It  is  never  wise  for  the  traveler  in  Japan  to  ex- 
pect much  on  the  strength  of  the  reputation  of  kem- 
butsu.  The  interest  attaching  to  the  vast  majority 
of  kembutsu  depends  altogether  upon  the  exercise  of 
imagination  ; and  the  ability  to  exercise  such  imagi- 
nation again  depends  upon  one’s  acquaintance  with 
the  history  and  mythology  of  the  country.  Knolls, 
rocks,  stumps  of  trees,  have  been  for  hundreds  of 
years  objects  of  reverence  for  the  peasantry,  solely 
because  of  local  traditions  relating  to  them.  Broken 
iron  kettles,  bronze  mirrors  covered  with  verdigris, 
rusty  pieces  of  sword  blades,  fragments  of  red  earth- 
enware, l)ave  drawn  generations  of  pilgrims  to  the 
shrines  in  which  they  are  preserved.  At  various 
small  temples  which  I visited,  the  temple  treasures 
consisted  of  trays  full  of  small  stones.  The  first 
time  I saw  those  little  stones  I thought  that  the 
priests  had  been  studying  geology  or  mineral ogj% 
each  stone  being  labeled  in  Japanese  characters.  On 
examination,  the  stones  proved  to  be  absolutely 
worthless  in  themselves,  even  as  specimens  of  neigh- 
boring rocks.  But  the  stories  which  the  priests  or 
acolytes  could  tell  about  each  and  every  stone  were 
more  than  interesting.  The  stones  served  as  rude 

1 There  are  two  ponds  not  far  from  each  other.  The  one  I visited 
was  called  0-ike,  or  " The  Male  Pond,”  and  the  other,  Me-ike,  or  “ The 
Female  Pond.” 


598  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


beads,  in  fact,  for  the  recital  of  a litany  of  Buddhist 
legends. 

After  the  experience  of  the  Sai-no-ike,  I had  little 
reason  to  expect  to  see  anything  extraordinary  at 
Shimonishimura.  But  this  time  I was  agreeably 
mistaken.  Shimonishimura  is  a pretty  fishing  vil- 
lage within  an  hour’s  row  from  Saigo.  The  boat  fol- 
lows a wild  but  beautiful  coast,  passing  one  singular 
truncated  hill,  Oshiroyama,  upon  which  a strong 
castle  stood  in  ancient  times.  There  is  now  only  a 
small  Shinto  shrine  there,  surrounded  by  pines. 
From  the  hamlet  of  Shimonishimura  to  the  Temple 
of  Tama-Wakasu-jinja  is  a walk  of  twenty  minutes, 
over  very  rough  paths  between  rice-fields  and  vege- 
table gardens.  But  the  situation  of  the  temple,  sur- 
rounded by  its  sacred  grove,  in  the  heart  of  a land- 
scape framed  in  by  mountain  ranges  of  many  colors, 
is  charmingly  impressive.  The  edifice  seems  to  have 
once  been  a Buddhist  temple ; it  is  now  the  largest 
Shinto  structure  in  Oki.  Before  its  gate  stands  the 
famous  cedar,  not  remarkable  for  height,  but  won- 
derful for  girth.  Two  yards  above  the  soil  its  cir- 
cumference is  fortj'-five  feet.  It  has  given  its  name 
to  the  holy  place ; the  Oki  peasantry  scarcely  ever 
speak  of  Tama-Wakasu-jinja,  but  only  of  “ 0-Sugi,” 
the  Great  Cedar. 

Tradition  avers  that  this  tree  was  planted  by  a 
Buddhist  nun  more  than  eight  hundred  years  ago. 
And  it  is  alleged  that  whoever  eats  with  chopsticks 
made  from  the  wood  of  that  tree  will  never  have  the 
toothache,  and  will  live  to  become  exceedingly  old.^ 

1 Speaking  of  the  supposed  power  of  certain  trees  to  cure  tooth- 
ache. I may  mention  a curious  superstition  about  the  yanagi,  or 


FROM  HOKI  TO  OKI. 


599 


XXI. 

The  shrine  dedicated  to  the  spirit  of  the  Cmperor 
Go-Daigo  is  in  Nishinoshima,  at  Beppu,  a picturesque 
fishing  village  composed  of  one  long  street  of  thatched 
cottages  fringing  a bay,  at  the  foot  of  a demilune  of 
hills.  The  simplicity  of  manners  and  the  honest 
healthy  poverty  of  the  place  are  quite  wonderful, 
even  for  Oki.  There  is  a kind  of  inn  for  strangers 
at  which  hot  water  is  served  instead  of  tea,  and  dried 
beans  instead  of  kwashi,  and  millet  instead  of  rice. 
The  absence  of  tea,  however,  is  much  more  signifi- 
cant than  that  of  rice.  But  the  people  of  Beppu  do 
not  suffer  for  lack  of  proper  nourishment,  as  their 
robust  appearance  bears  witness:  there  are  plenty 
of  vegetables,  all  raised  in  tiny  gardens  which  the 
women  and  children  till  during  the  absence  of  the 
boats;  and  there  is  abundance  of  fish.  There  is  no 
Buddhist  temple,  but  there  is  an  ujigami. 

The  shrine  of  the  emperor  is  at  the  top  of  a hill 
called  Kurokizan,  at  one  end  of  the  bav.  The  hill  is 
covered  with  tall  pines,  and  the  path  is  very  steep, 
so  that  I thought  it  prudent  to  put  on  straw  sa,pdals, 
in  which  one  never  slips.  I found  the  shrine  to  be 
a small  wooden  miya,  scarcely  three  feet  high,  and 
black  with  age.  There  were  remains  of  other  miya, 
much  older,  lying  in  some  bushes  near  by.  Two 
large  stones,  unhewn  and  without  inscriptions  of  any 
sort,  have  been  placed  before  the  shrine.  I looked 
into  it,  and  saw  a crumbling  metal-mirror,  dingy 

willow-tree.  Sufferers  from  toothache  sometimes  stick  needles  into 
the  tree,  believing  that  the  pain  caused  to  the  tree-spirit  will  foree  it 
to  exercise  its  power  to  cure.  I could  not,  however,  find  any  record 
of  this  practice  in  Oki. 

VOL.  It. 


600  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


paper  gohei  attached  to  splints  of  bamboo,  two  little 
o-niikidokkuri,  or  Shinto  sak^-vessels  of  red  earthen* 
ware,  and  one  rin.  There  was  nothing  else  to  see, 
except,  indeed,  certain  delightful  glimpses  of  coast 
and  peak,  visible  in  the  bursts  of  warm  blue  light 
which  penetrated  the  consecrated  shadow,  between 
the  trunks  of  the  great  pines. 

Only  this  humble  shrine  commemorates  the  good 
emperor’s  sojourn  among  the  peasantry  of  Oki. 
But  there  is  now  being  erected  by  voluntary  sub- 
scription, at  the  little  village  of  Go-sen-goku-mura, 
near  Yonago  in  Tottori,  quite  a handsome  monument 
of  stone  to  the  memory  of  his  daughter,  the  princess 
Hinako-Nai-Shinnd,  who  died  there  while  attempting 
to  follow  her  august  parent  into  exile.  Near  the 
place  of  her  rest  stands  a famous  chestnut-tree,  of 
which  this  storj’^  is  told  : While  the  emperoi'’s  daugh- 
ter was  ill,  she  asked  for  chestnuts ; and  some  were 
given  to  her.  But  she  took  only  one,  and  bit  it  a 
little,  and  threw  it  away.  It  found  root  and  became 
a grand  tree.  But  all  the  chestnuts  of  that  tree  bear 
marks  like  the  marks  of  little  teeth ; for  in  Japanese 
legend  even  the  trees  are  loyal,  and  strive  to  show 
their  loyalty  in  all  sorts  of  tender  dumb  ways.  And 
that  tree  is  called  Hagata-guri-no-ki,  which  signifies  : 
“ The  Tree-of-the-Tooth-marked-Chestnuts.” 


xxn. 

Long  before  visiting  Oki  I had  heard  that  such  a 
crime  as  theft  was  unknown  in  the  little  archipelago  ; 
that  it  had  never  been  found  necessary  there  to  lock 
things  up;  and  that,  whenever  weather  permitted,  the 
people  slept  with  their  houses  all  open  to  the  four 
winds  of  heaven. 


FROM  HOKI  TO  OKI. 


601 


And  after  careful  investigation,  I found  these  sur- 
prising statements  were,  to  a great  extent,  true.  In 
the  Dozen  group,  at  least,  there  ai’e  no  thieves,  and 
practically  no  crime.  Ten  policemen  are  sufficient 
to  control  the  whole  of  both  Dozen  and  Dogo,  with 
their  population  of  thirty  thousand  one  hundred  and 
ninety-six  souls.  Each  policeman  has  under  his  in- 
spection a number  of  villages,  which  he  visits  on 
regular  days  ; and  his  absence  for  any  length  of 
time  from  one  of  these  seems  never  to  be  taken 
advantage  of.  His  work  is  mostly  confined  to  the 
enforcement  of  hygienic  regulations,  and  to  the  writ- 
ing of  I’cports.  It  is  very  seldom  that  he  finds  it 
necessary  to  make  an  arrest,  for  the  people  scarcely 
ever  quarrel. 

In  the  island  of  Dogo  alone  are  there  ever  any 
petty  thefts,  and  only  in  that  part  of  Oki  do  the  peo- 
ple take  any  precautions  against  thieves.  Formerly 
there  was  no  prison,  and  thefts  were  never  heard  of; 
and  tlie  people  of  Dogo  still  claim  that  the  few  per- 
sons arrested  in  tlieir  island  for  such  offenses  are  not 
natives  of  Oki,  but  strangers  from  the  mainland. 
What  appears  to  be  quite  true  is  that  theft  was  un- 
known in  Oki  before  the  port  of  Saigo  obtained  its 
present  importance.  The  whole  trade  of  Western 
Japan  has  been  increased  by  the  rapid  growth  of 
steam  communications  with  other  parts  of  the  em- 
pire ; and  the  port  of  Saigo  appears  to  have  gained 
commercially,  but  to  have  lost  morally,  by  the  new 
conditions. 

Yet  offenses  against  the  law  are  still  surprisingly 
few,  even  in  Saigo.  Saigo  has  a prison  ; and  there 
were  people  in  it  during  my  stay  in  the  city  ; but 
the  inmates  had  been  convicted  only  of  such  misde- 


602  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


meanors  as  gambling  (which  is  sti*ictly  prohibited 
in  eveiy  form  by  Japanese  law),  or  tlie  violation  of 
lesser  ordinances.  When  a serious  offense  is  com- 
mitted, the  offender  is  not  punished  in  Oki,  but  is 
sent  to  the  great  prison  at  Matsue,  in  Izumo. 

The  Dozen  islands,  however,  perfectly  maintain 
their  ancient  reputation  for  irreproachable  honesty. 
There  liave  been  no  thieves  in  those  three  islands 
within  the  memory  of  man  ; and  there  are  no  serious 
quarrels,  no  fighting,  nothing  to  make  life  miserable 
for  anybody.  Wild  and  bleak  as  the  land  is,  all  can 
manage  to  live  comfortably  enough ; food  is  cheap 
and  plenty,  and  manners  and  customs  have  retained 
their  primitive  simplicity. 

xxrii. 

To  foreign  eyes  the  defenses  of  even  an  Izumo 
dwellinor  against  thieves  seem  ludicrous.  Chevaux- 
de-frise  of  bamboo  stakes  are  used  extensively  in 
eastern  cities  of  the  empire,  but  in  Izumo  these  are 
not  often  to  be  seen,  and  do  not  protect  the  really 
weak  points  of  the  buildings  upon  which  they  are 
placed.  As  for  outside  walls  and  fences,  they  serve 
only  for  screens,  or  for  ornamental  boundaries ; any 
one  can  climb  over  them.  Any  one  can  also  cut  his 
way  into  an  ordinary  Japanese  house  with  a pocket- 
knife.  The  amado  are  thin  sliding  screens  of  soft 
wood,  easy  to  break  with  a single  blow ; and  in  most 
Izumo  homes  there  is  not  a lock  which  could  resist 
one  vigorous  pull.  Indeed,  the  Japanese  themselves 
are  so  far  aware  of  the  futility  of  their  wooden  panels 
against  burglars  that  all  who  can  afford  it  build  kura, 
— small  heavy  fire-proof  and  (for  Japan)  almost 
burglar  - proof  structures,  with  very  thick  earthen 


FROM  HOKI  TO  OKI. 


603 


walls,  a narrow  ponderous  door  fastened  with  a 
gigantic  padlock,  and  one  very  small  iron-barred 
window,  high  up,  near  the  roof.  The  kura  are  white- 
washed, and  look  very  neat.  They  cannot  be  used 
for  dwellings,  however,  as  they  are  mouldy  and  dark; 
and  they  serve  only  as  storehouses  for  valuables.  It 
is  not  easy  to  rob  a kura. 

But  thex’e  is  no  trouble  in  “ burglariously  ” enter- 
ing an  Izumo  dwelling  unless  there  happen  to  be 
good  watchdogs  on  the  premises.  The  robber  knows 
the  only  difficulties  in  the  way  of  his  enterprise  are 
such  as  he  is  likely  to  encounter  after  having  effected 
an  entrance.  In  view  of  these  difficulties,  he  usually 
carries  a sword. 

Nevertheless,  he  does  not  wish  to  find  himself  in 
any  predicament  requiring  the  use  of  a sword;  and 
to  avoid  such  an  unpleasant  possibility  he  has  re- 
course to  magic. 

He  looks  about  the  premises  for  a tarai,  — a kind 
of  tub.  If  he  finds  one,  he  performs  a nameless  op- 
eration in  a certain  part  of  the  yard,  and  covers  the 
spot  with  the  tub,  turned  upside  down.  He  believes 
if  he  can  do  this  that  a magical  sleep  will  fall  upon 
all  the  inmates  of  the  house,  and  that  he  will  thus 
be  able  to  carry  away  whatever  he  pleases,  without 
being  heard  or  seen. 

But  every  Izumo  household  knows  the  counter- 
charm.  Each  evening,  before  retiring,  the  careful 
wife  sees  that  a hocho,  or  kitchen  knife,  is  laid  upon 
the  kitchen  floor,  and  covered  with  a kanadari,  or 
brazen  wash-basin,  on  the  upturned  bottom  of  which 
is  placed  a single  straw  sandal,  of  the  noiseless  sort 
called  zori,  also  turned  upside  down.  She  believes 
this  little  bit  of  witchci’aft  will  not  only  nullify  the 


604  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


robber’s  spell,  but  also  render  it  impossible  for  him 

— even  should  he  succeed  in  entering  the  house  with- 
out being  seen  or  heard  — to  carry  anything  what- 
ever away.  But,  unless  very  tired  indeed,  she  will 
also  see  that  the  tarai  is  brought  into  the  house  before 
the  amado  are  closed  for  the  night. 

If  through  omission  of  these  (precautions  as  the 
good  wife  might  aver),  or  in  despite  of  them,  the 
dwelling  be  robbed  while  the  family  are  asleep, 
search  is  made  early  in  the  morning  for  the  footprints 
of  the  burglar ; and  a moxa  ^ is  set  burning  upon  each 
footprint.  By  this  operation  it  is  hoped  or  believed 
that  the  burglar’s  feet  will  be  made  so  sore  that  he 
cannot  run  far,  and  that  the  police  may  easily  over- 
take him. 

xxn^. 

It  w^as  in  Oki  that  I first  heai-d  of  an  extraordinary 
superstition  about  the  cause  of  okori  (ague,  or  inter- 
termittent  fever),  mild  forms  of  which  prevail  in 
certain  districts  at  certain  seasons ; but  I have  since 
learned  that  this  quaint  belief  is  an  old  one  in  Izmno 
and  in  many  parts  of  the  San-indo.  It  is  a curious 
example  of  the  manner  in  which  Buddhism  has  been 
used  to  explain  all  mysteries. 

Okori  is  said  to  be  caused  by  the  Gaki-botoke,  or 
hungry  ghosts.  Strictly  speaking,  the  Gaki-botoke 
are  the  Pretas  of  Indian  Buddhism,  spirits  con- 

1 Moxa,  a corruption  of  the  native  name  of  the  mugwort  plant: 
moe-kusa,  or  mogusa,  “ the  burning  weed.”  Small  cones  of  its  fibre  are 
used  for  cauterizing,  according  to  the  old  Chinese  system  of  medicine, 

— the  little  cones  being  placed  upon  the  patient’s  skin,  lighted,  and 
left  to  smoulder  until  wholly  consumed.  The  result  is  a profound 
scar.  The  moxa  is  not  only  used  therapeutically,  but  also  as  a pun- 
ishment for  very  naughty  children.  See  the  interesting  note  on  this 
subject  in  Professor  Chamberlain’s  Things  Japanese. 


FROM  HOKI  TO  OKI. 


605 


deinned  to  sojourn  in  the  Gakido,  the  sphere  of  the 
penance  of  perpetual  hunger  and  thirst.  But  in 
Japanese  Buddhism,  the  name  Gaki  is  given  also  to 
those  souls  who  have  none  among  the  living  to  re- 
member them,  and  to  prepare  for  them  the  custo- 
mary offerings  of  food  and  tea. 

These  suffer,  and  seek  to  obtain  warmth  and  nutri- 
ment by  entering  into  the  bodies  of  the  living.  The 
person  into  whom  a gaki  enters  at  first  feels  intensely 
cold  and  shivers,  because  the  gaki  is  cold.  But  the 
chill  is  followed  by  a feeling  of  intense  heat,  as  the 
gaki  becomes  warm.  Having  warmed  itself  and 
absorbed  some  nourishment  at  the  expense  of  its  un- 
willing host,  the  gaki  goes  away,  and  the  fever 
ceases  for  a time.  But  at  exactly  the  same  hour 
upon  another  day  the  gaki  will  return,  and  the  vic- 
tim must  shiver  and  burn  until  the  haunter  has  be- 
come warm  and  has  satisfied  its  liunger.  Some  gaki 
visit  their  patients  every  day  ; others  every  alternate 
day,  or  even  less  often.  In  brief : the  paroxysms  of 
any  form  of  intermittent  fever  are  explained  by  the 
presence  of  the  gaki,  and  the  intervals  between  the 
paroxysms  by  its  absence. 


XXV. 

Of  the  word  hotoke  (which  becomes  botoke  in 
such  compounds  as  nure-botoke,^  gaki-botoke),  there 
is  something  curious  to  say. 

Hotoke  signifies  a Buddha. 

Hotoke  signifies  also  the  Souls  of  the  Dead,  — since 
faith  holds  that  these,  after  worthy  life,  either  enter 
upon  the  way  to  Buddhahood,  or  become  Buddhas. 

1 Xure-botoke,  “ a wet  god.”  This  term  is  applied  to  the  statue  of 
a deity  left  exposed  to  the  open  air. 


606  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


Hotoke,  by  euphemism,  has  likewise  come  to  mean 
a corpse  : hence  the  verb  hotoke-zukuri,  “ to  look 
ghastly,”  to  have  the  semblance  of  one  long  dead. 

And  Hotoke-San  is  the  name  of  the  Image  of  a 
Face  seen  in  the  pupil  of  the  eye,  — Hotoke-San, 
“■the  Lord  Buddha.”  Not  the  Supreme  of  the  Hok- 
kekyo,  but  that  lesser  Buddha  who  dwelleth  in  each 
one  of  us,  — the  Spirit.^ 

Sang  Rossetti : “ I looked  and  saw  your  heart  in  the 
shadow  of  your  eyes^  Exactly  converse  is  the  Ori- 
ental thought.  A Japanese  lover  would  have  said  : 
“I  looked  and  saw  my  own  Buddha  in  the  shadow  of 
your  eyes.” 

What  is  the  psychical  theory  connected  with  so 
singular  a belief  ? ^ I think  it  might  be  this  : The 
Soul,  within  its  own  body,  always  remains  viewless, 
yet  may  reflect  itself  in  the  eyes  of  another,  as  in  the 
mirror  of  a necromancer.  Vainly  you  gaze  into  the 
eyes  of  the  beloved  to  discern  her  soul : you  see  there 
only  your  own  soul’s  shadow,  diaphanous  ; and  be- 
yond is  mystery  alone  — reaching  to  the  Infinite. 

But  is  not  this  true  ? The  Ego,  as  Schopenhauer 
wonderfully  said,  is  the  dark  spot  in  consciousness, 
even  as  the  point  whereat  the  nerve  of  sight  enters 
the  eye  is  blind.  We  see  ourselves  in  others  only ; 
only  through  others  do  we  dimly  guess  that  which 
we  are.  And  in  the  deepest  love  of  another  being  do 
we  not  indeed  love  ourselves  ? What  are  the  person- 

' According  to  popular  legend,  in  each  eye  of  the  child  of  a god 
or  a dragon  tico  Buddhas  are  visible.  The  statement  in  some  of  the 
Japanese  ballads,  that  the  hero  sung  of  h&A  four  Buddhas  in  his  eyes, 
is  equivalent  to  the  declaration  that  each  of  his  eyes  had  a double- 
pupil. 

2 The  idea  of  the  Atman  will  perhaps  occur  to  many  readers. 


FROM  HOKI  TO  OKI. 


607 


alities,  the  individualities  of  us  but  countless  vibra- 
tions in  the  Universal  Being?  Are  we  not  all  One 
in  the  unknowable  Ultimate  ? One  with  the  incon- 
ceivable past?  One  with  the  everlasting  future? 

XXVI, 

In  Oki,  as  in  Izumo,  the  public  school  is  slowly  but 
surely  destroying  many  of  the  old  superstitions.  Even 
the  fishermen  of  the  new  generation  laugh  at  things 
in  which  their  fathers  believed.  I was  rather  sur- 
prised to  receive  from  an  intelligent  young  sailoi’, 
whom  I had  questioned  through  an  interpreter  about 
the  ghostly  fire  of  Takuhizan,  this  scornful  answer; 
“ Oh,  we  used  to  believe  tliose  things  when  we  were 
savages  ; but  vve  are  civilized  now  ! ” 

Nevertheless,  he  was  somewhat  in  advance  of  his 
time.  In  the  village  to  which  he  belonged  I discov- 
ered that  the  Fox-superstition  prevails  to  a degree 
scarcely  paralleled  in  any  part  of  Izumo.  The  his- 
tory of  the  village  was  quite  curious.  From  time 
immemorial  it  had  been  reputed  a settlement  of  ki- 
tsune-mochi : in  other  words,  all  its  inhabitants  were 
commonly  believed,  and  perhaps  believed  themselves, 
to  be  the  owners  of  goblin-foxes.  And  being  all  alike 
kitsune-mochi,  they  could  eat  and  drink  together,  and 
marry  and  give  in  marriage  among  themselves  with- 
out affliction.  They  were  feared  with  a ghostly  fear 
by  the  neighboring  peasantry,  who  obeyed  their  de- 
mands both  in  matters  reasonable  and  uiu’easonable. 
They  prospered  exceedingly.  But  some  twenty  years 
ago  an  Izumo  stranger  settled  among  them.  He  was 
energetic,  intelligent,  and  possessed  of  some  capital. 
He  bought  land,  made  various  shrewd  investments, 
and  in  a surprisingly  short  time  became  the  wealthiest 


608  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


citizen  in  the  place.  He  built  a very  pretty  Shinto 
temple  and  presented  it  to  the  community.  There 
was  only  one  obstacle  in  the  way  of  his  becoming  a 
really  popular  person  : he  was  not  a kitsuue-mochi, 
and  he  had  even  said  that  he  hated  foxes.  This 
singularity  threatened  to  beget  discords  in  the  mura, 
especially  as  he  married  his  children  to  strangers, 
and  thus  began  in  the  midst  of  the  kitsune-mochi  to 
establish  a sort  of  anti-Fox-holding  colony. 

Wherefore,  for  a long  time  past,  the  Fox-holders 
have  been  trying  to  force  their  superfluous  goblins 
upon  him.  Shadows  glide  about  the  gate  of  his 
dwelling  on  moonless  nights,  muttering:  Kaere ! 

kyo  kara  kokoye  : kuruda!”  [Be  off  now  ! from  now 
hereafter  it  is  here  that  ye  must  dwell:  go  I]  Then 
are  the  upper  shdji  violently  pushed  apart ; and  the 
voice  of  the  enraged  house  owner  is  heard  : “ Koko 
wa  kiraida!  modori!”  [Detestable  is  that  which  ye 
do  ! get  ye  gone  !]  And  the  Shadows  flee  away.^ 


XXVII. 

Because  there  were  no  cuttleflsh  at  Hishi-ura, 
and  no  horrid  smells,  I enjoyed  myself  there  more 
than  I did  anywhere  else  in  Oki.  But,  in  any  event, 
Hishi-ura  would  have  interested  me  more  than 
Saigo.  The  life  of  the  pretty  little  town  is  pecul- 
iarly old-fashioned  ; and  the  ancient  domestic  indus- 
tries, which  the  introduction  of  machinery  has  almost 

1 In  1892  a Japanese  newspaper,  published  in  Tokyo,  stated  upon 
the  authority  of  a physician  who  had  visited  Shimane,  that  the  people 
of  Oki  believe  in  ghostly  dogs  instead  of  ghostly  foxes.  This  is  a 
mistake  caused  by  the  literal  rendering  of  a term  often  used  in  Shi- 
mane, especially  in  Iwami,  namely,  inu-gami-mochi.  It  is  only  a 
euphemism  for  kitsune-mochi ; the  inii-gami  is  only  the  hito-kitsune, 
which  is  supposed  to  make  itself  visible  in  various  animal  forms. 


FROM  HOKI  TO  OKI. 


609 


destroyed  in  Izumo  and  elsewhere,  still  exist  in  Hi- 
shi-ura.  It  was  pleasant  to  watch  the  rosy  girls 
weaving  robes  of  cotton  and  robes  of  silk,  relieving 
each  other  whenever  the  work  became  fatiguing. 
All  this  quaint  gentle  life  is  open  to  inspection,  and 
I loved  to  watch  it.  I had  other  pleasures  also  : the 
bay  is  a delightful  place  for  swimming,  and  there 
were  always  boats  ready  to  take  me  to  any  place  of 
interest  along  the  coast.  At  night  the  sea  breeze 
made  the  rooms  which  I occupied  deliciously  cool ; 
and  from  the  balcony  I could  watch  the  bay-swell 
breaking  in  slow,  cold  fire  on  the  steps  of  the  wharves, 
— a beautiful  phosphorescence;  and  I could  hear 
Oki  mothers  singing  their  babes  to  sleep  with  one  of 
the  oldest  lullabys  in  the  world:  — 

Nenneko, 

O-yama  no 
Usayi  no  ko. 

Naze  mata 
O-mimi  ga 
Nagai  e yara  f 
Okktisan  no 
O-naka  ni 
Oru  toku  ni, 

Biwa  no  ha, 

Sasa  no  ha, 

Tabeta  sona  ; 

Sore  de 
O-mimi  ga 
Nagai  e sona.^ 

The  air  was  singularly  sweet  and  plaintive,  quite 
different  from  that  to  which  the  same  words  are  sung 
in  Izumo,  and  in  other  parts  of  Japan. 

1 Which  words  signify  something  like  this  •.  — 

“ Sleep,  baby,  sleep  ! Why  are  the  honorable  ears  of  the  Child  of  the 
Hare  of  the  honorable  mountain  so  long?  ’T  is  because  when  he  dwdt 
within  her  honored  womb,  his  mamma  ate  the  leaves  of  the  loqnat,  the 
leaves  of  the  bamboo-grass.  That  is  why  his  honorable  ears  are  so  long." 


610  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


One  morning  I had  hired  a boat  to  take  me  to 
Beppu,  and  was  on  tlie  point  of  leaving  tlie  hotel  for 
the  day,  when  the  old  landlady,  touching  my  arm, 
exclaimed:  “Wait  a little  while;  it  is  not  good  to 
cross  a funeral.”  I looked  round  the  corner,  and 
saw  the  procession  coming  along  the  shore.  It  was 
a Shinto  funeral,  — a child’s  funeral.  Young  lads 
came  first,  carrying  Shinto  emblems,  — little  white 
flags,  and  branches  of  the  sacred  sakaki ; and  after 
the  coffin  the  mother  walked,  a young  peasant, 
crying  very  loud,  and  wiping  her  eyes  with  the  long 
sleeves  of  her  coarse  blue  dress.  Then  the  old 
woman  at  my  side  murmured:  She  sorrows;  hut 

she  is  very  young : perhaps  It  will  come  hack  to  her." 
For  she  was  a pious  Buddhist,  my  good  old  landlady, 
and  doubtless  supposed  the  mother’s  belief  like  her 
own,  although  the  funeral  was  conducted  accoiding 
to  the  Shinto  rite. 


xxvin. 

There  are  in  Buddhism  certain  weirdly  beautiful 
consolations  unknown  to  Western  faith. 

The  young  mother  who  loses  her  first  child  may 
at  least  pray  that  it  will  come  back  to  her  out  of  the 
night  of  death,  — not  in  dreams  only,  but  through 
reincarnation.  And  so  praying,  she  writes  within 
the  hand  of  the  little  corpse  the  first  ideograph  of 
her  lost  daiding’s  name. 

Months  pass ; she  again  becomes  a mother.  Eagerly 
she  examines  the  flower-soft  hand  of  the  infant. 
And  lo  ! the  self-same  ideograph  is  there, — a rosy 
birth-mark  on  the  tender  palm;  and  the  Soul  re- 
turned looks  out  upon  her.  through  the  eyes  ot  the 
newly  born  with  the  gaze  of  other  days. 


FROM  HOKI  TO  OKI. 


611 


XXIX. 

While  on  the  subject  of  death  I may  speak  of  a 
primitive  but  touching  custom  which  exists  both  in 
Oki  and  Izumo,  — that  of  calling  the  name  of  the  dead 
immediately  after  death.  For  it  is  thought  that  the 
call  may  be  heard  by  the  fleeting  soul,  which  might 
sometimes  be  thus  induced  to  return.  Therefore, 
when  a mother  dies,  the  ciiildren  should  first  call  her, 
and  of  all  the  children  first  the  youngest  (for  she 
loved  that  one  most)  ; and  then  the  husband  and  all 
tliose  who  loved  the  dead  cry  to  her  in  turn. 

And  it  is  also  the  custom  to  call  loudly  the  name 
of  one  who  faints,  or  becomes  insensible  from  any 
cause ; and  there  are  curious  beliefs  underlying  this 
custom. 

It  is  said  that  of  those  who  swoon  from  pain  or 
grief  especially,  many  approach  very  nearly  to  death, 
and  these  always  liave  the  same  experience.  “ You 
feel,”  said  one  to  me  in  answer  to  my  question  about 
the  belief,  “as  if  you  were  suddenly  somewhere  else, 
and  quite  happy,  — only  tired.  And  you  know  that 
you  want  to  go  to  a Buddliist  temple  which  is  quite 
far  away.  At  last  you  reach  the  gate  of  the  temple 
court,  and  you  see  the  temple  inside,  and  it  is  won- 
derfully large  and  beautiful.  And  yon  pass  the  gate 
and  enter  the  court  to  go  to  the  temple.  But  sud- 
denly you  hear  voices  of  friends  far  behind  you  call- 
ing  your  name  — very,  very  earnestly.  So  you  turn 
back,  and  all  at  once  you  come  to  yourself  again. 
At  least  it  is  so  if  your  heart  cares  to  live.  But  one 
Avho  is  really  tired  of  living  will  not  listen  to  the 
voices,  and  walks  on  to  the  temple.  And  what  there 
happens  no  man  knows,  for  they  who  enter  that 
temple  never  return  to  their  friends. 


612  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


“ That  is  why  people  call  loudly  into  the  ear  of  one 
who  swoons. 

“Now,  it  is  said  tliat  all  who  die,  before  going  to 
the  Meido,  make  one  pilgrimage  to  the  great  temple 
of  Zenkdji,  which  is  in  the  country  of  Shinano,  in 
Nagano- Ken.  And  they  say  that  whenever  the  priest 
of  that  temple  preaches,  he  sees  the  Souls  gather 
there  in  the  hondo  to  hear  him,  all  with  white  wrap- 
pings about  their  heads.  So  Zenkoji  might  be  the 
temple  which  is  seen  by  those  who  swoon.  But  I do 
not  know.” 

XXX. 

I went  by  boat  from  Hishi-ura  to  Amamura,  in 
Nakanoshima,  to  visit  the  tomb  of  the  exiled  Em- 
peror Go-Toba.  The  scenery  along  the  way  was 
beautiful,  and  of  softer  outline  than  I had  seen  on  my 
first  passage  through  the  archipelago.  Small  rocks 
rising  from  the  water  were  covered  with  sea-gulls 
and  cormorants,  which  scarcely  took  any  notice  of 
the  boat,  even  wdien  we  came  almost  within  an  oar’s 
length.  This  fearlessness  of  wild  creatures  is  one  of 
the  most  charming  impressions  of  travel  in  these  re- 
moter parts  of  Japan,  yet  unvisited  by  tourists  with 
shotguns.  The  early  European  and  American  hunt- 
ers in  Japan  seem  to  have  found  no  difficulty  and 
felt  no  compunction  in  exterminating  what  they  con- 
sidered “ game  ” over  whole  districts,  destroying  life 
merely  for  the  wanton  pleasui-e  of  destruction.  Their 
example  is  being  imitated  now  by  “ Young  Japan,” 
and  the  destruction  of  bird  life  is  only  imperfectly 
checked  by  game  laws.  Happily,  the  government 
does  interfere  sometimes  to  check  particular  forms  of 
the  hunting  vice.  Some  brutes  who  had  observed 
the  habits  of  swallows  to  make  their  nests  in  Japa- 


FROM  HOKI  TO  OKI. 


613 


nese  houses,  last  year  offered  to  pm-chase  some  thou- 
sands of  swallow-skins  at  a tempting  price.  The 
effect  of  the  advertisement  was  cruel  enough  j but 
the  police  were  promptly  notified  to  stop  the  murder- 
ing, which  they  did.  About  the  same  time,  in  one 
of  the  Yokohama  papers,  there  appeared  a letter 
from  some  holy  person  announcing,  as  a triumph  of 
Christian  sentiment,  that  a “ converted  ” fisherman 
had  been  persuaded  by  foreign  proselytizers  to  kill 
a turtle,  which  his  Buddhist  comrades  had  vainly 
begged  him  to  spare. 

Amamura,  a very  small  village,  lies  in  a narrow 
plain  of  rice-fields  extending  from  the  sea  to  a range 
of  low  hills.  From  the  landing-place  to  the  village 
is  about  a quarter  of  a mile.  -The  naiTow  path  lead- 
ing to  it  passes  round  the  base  of  a small  hill, 
covered  with  pines,  on  the  outskirts  of  the  village. 
There  is  quite  a handsome  Shinto  temple  on  the  hill, 
small,  but  admirably  constructed,  approached  by 
stone  steps  and  a paved  walk.  There  are  the  usual 
lions  and  lamps  of  stone,  and  the  ordinary  simple 
offerings  of  paper  and  women’s  hair  before  the  shrine. 
But  I saw  among  the  ex-voto  a number  of  curious 
things  which  I had  never  seen  in  Izumo,  — tiny  min- 
iature buckets,  well-buckets,  with  rope  and  pole  com- 
plete, neatly  fashioned  out  of  bamboo.  The  boatman 
said  that  farmers  bring  these  to  the  shrine  when 
praying  for  rain.  The  deity  was  called  Suwa-Dai- 
IMyojin. 

It  was  at  the  neighboring  village,  of  which  Suwa- 
Dai-Mybjin  seems  to  be  the  ujigami,  that  the  Em- 
peror Go-Toba  is  said  to  have  dwelt,  in  the  house  of 
the  Choja  Shikekurd.  The  Shikekuro  homestead 


614  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


remains,  and  still  belongs  to  the  Clioja’s  descend- 
ants, but  they  have  become  very  poor.  I asked  per- 
mission to  see  the  cups  fi'om  which  the  exiled  em- 
peror drank,  and  other  relics  of  his  stay  said  to  be 
preserved  by  the  family ; but  in  consequence  of  ill- 
ness in  the  house  I could  not  be  received.  So  I had 
only  a glimpse  of  the  garden,  where  there  is  a cele- 
brated pond,  — a kembutsu. 

The  pond  is  called  Shikekuro's  Pond,  — Shike- 
kuro-no-ike.  And  for  seven  hundred  years,  T is  said, 
the  frogs  of  that  pond  have  never  been  heard  to 
croak. 

For  the  Emperor  Go-Toba,  having  one  night  been 
kept  awake  by  the  croaking  of  the  frogs  in  that 
pond,  arose  and  went  out  and  commanded  them, 
saying:  “ Be  silent!  ” Wherefore  they  have  remained 
silent  through  all  the  centuries  even  unto  this  day. 

Near  the  pond  there  was  in  that  time  a great 
pine-tree,  of  which  the  rustling  upon  windy  nights 
disturbed  the  emperor’s  rest.  And  he  spoke  to  the 
pine-tree,  and  said  to  it : “ Be  still  I ” And  never 
thereafter  was  that  tree  heard  to  rustle,  even  in  time 
of  storms. 

But  that  tree  has  ceased  to  be.  Nothing  remains 
of  it  but  a few  fragments  of  its  wood  and  bark, 
which  are  carefully  preserved  as  relics  by  the  ancients 
of  Oki.  Such  a fragment  was  shown  to  me  in  the 
toko  of  the  guest  chamber  of  the  dwelling  of  a phy- 
sician of  Saigo,  — the  same  gentleman  whose  kind- 
ness I have  related  elsewhere. 

The  tomb  of  the  emperor  lies  on  the  slope  of  a 
low  hill,  at  a distance  of  about  ten  minutes’  walk 
from  the  village.  It  is  far  less  imposing  than  the 


FROM  HOKI  TO  OKI. 


615 


least  of  the  tombs  of  tlie  Matsudaira  at  Matsue,  in 
the  grand  old  courts  of  Gesshoji ; but  it  was  perhaps 
the  best  which  the  poor  little  country  of  Oki  could 
furnish.  This  is  not,  however,  the  original  place  of 
the  tomb,  which  was  moved  by  imperial  order  in  the 
sixth  year  of  INIeiji  to  its  present  site.  A lofty  fence, 
or  rather  stockade  of  heavy  wooden  posts,  painted 
black,  incloses  a piece- of  ground  perhaps  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty  feet  long,  by  about  fifty  broad,  and 
graded  into  three  levels,  or  low  terraces.  All  the  space 
within  is  shaded  by  pines.  In  the  centre  of  the  last 
and  highest  of  the  little  terraces  the  tomb  is  placed  : a 
single  large  slab  of  gray  rock  laid  horizontall3^  A 
narrow  paved  walk  leads  from  the  gate  to  the  tomb, 
ascending  each  terrace  bj'  three  or  four  stone  ste})s. 
A little  within  this  gatewa}’,  which  is  opened  to 
visitors  only  once  a year,  there  is  a torii  facing  the 
sepulchre ; and  before  the  highest  terrace  there  are  a 
pair  of  stone  lamps.  All  this  is  severely  simple,  but 
effective  in  a certain  touching  way.  The  country 
stillness  is  broken  only  by  the  shrilling  of  the  semi 
and  the  tintinnabulation  of  that  strange  little  insect, 
the  suzumushi,  whose  calling  sounds  just  like  the 
tinkling  of  the  tiny  bells  which  are  shaken  by  the 
miko  in  her  sacred  dance. 


XXXI. 

I remained  nearly  eight  days  at  Hishi-ura  on  the 
occasion  of  my  second  visit  there,  but  only  three  at 
Urago.  Urago  proved  a less  pleasant  place  to  stay 
in,  — not  because  its  smells  were  any  stronger  than 
those  of  Saigo,  but  for  other  reasons  which  shall  pres- 
ently appear. 

More  than  one  foreign  man-of-war  has  touched  at 


VOL.  n. 


616  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


Saigo,  and  English  and  Russian  officers  of  the  navy 
have  been  seen  in  the  streets.  They  were  tall,  fair- 
haired, stalwart  men ; and  the  people  of  Oki  still  im- 
agine that  all  foreigners  from  the  West  have  the  same 
stature  and  complexion.  I was  the  first  foreigner 
who  ever  remained  even  a night  in  the  town,  and  I 
stayed  there  two  weeks  ; but  being  small  and  dark, 
and  dressed  like  a Japanese,  I excited  little  attention 
among  the  common  people  : it  seemed  to  them  that  I 
was  only  a curious  - looking  Japanese  from  some  I’e- 
mote  part  of  the  empire.  At  Hishi-ura  the  same  im- 
pression prevailed  for  a time ; and  even  after  the  fact 
of  my  being  a foreigner  had  become  generally  known, 
the  population  caused  me  no  annoyance  whatever : 
they  had  already  become  accustomed  to  see  me  walk- 
ing about  the  streets  or  swimming  across  the  bay. 
But  it  was  quite  otherwise  at  Urago.  The  first  time 
I landed  thei'e  I had  managed  to  escape  notice,  being 
in  Japanese  costume,  and  wearing  a very  large  Izumo 
hat,  which  partly  concealed  my  face.  After  I left 
for  Saigo,  the  people  must  have  found  out  that  a 
foreigner  — the  very  first  ever  seen  in  Dozen  — had 
actually  been  in  Urago  without  their  knowledge ; 
for  my  second  visit  made  a sensation  such  as  I had 
never  been  the  cause  of  anywhere  else,  except  at 
Kaka-ura. 

I had  barely  time  to  enter  the  hotel,  before  the 
street  became  entirely  blockaded  by  an  amazing 
crowd  desirous  to  see.  The  hotel  was  unfortunately 
situated  on  a corner,  so  that  it  was  soon  besieged  on 
two  sides.  I was  shown  to  a large  back  room  on  the 
second  floor  ; and  I had  no  sooner  squatted  down  on 
my  mat,  than  the  people  began  to  come  upstairs 
quite  noiselessly,  all  leaving  their  sandals  at  the  foot 


FROM  HOKI  TO  OKI. 


617 


of  the  steps.  They  were  too  polite  to  enter  the  room  ; 
but  four  or  five  would  put  their  heads  through  the 
doorway  at  once,  and  bow,  and  smile,  and  look,  and 
retire  to  make  way  for  those  who  filled  the  stairway 
behind  them.  It  was  no  easy  matter  for  the  servant 
to  bring  me  my  dinner.  Meanwhile,  not  only  had 
the  upper  rooms  of  the  houses  across  the  way  become 
packed  with  gazers,  but  all  the  roofs  — north,  east, 
and  south  — which  commanded  a view  of  my  apart- 
ment had  been  occupied  by  men  and  boys  in  multi- 
tude. Numbers  of  lads  had  also  climbed  (I  never 
could  imagine  how)  upon  the  narrow  eaves  over  the 
galleries  below  my  windows  ; and  all  the  openings  of 
my  room,  on  three  sides,  were  full  of  faces.  Then 
tiles  gave  way,  and  boys  fell,  but  nobody  appeared 
to  be  hurt.  And  the  queerest  fact  was  that  during 
the  performance  of  these  extraordinary  gymnastics 
there  was  a silence  of  death : had  I not  seen  the 
throng,  I might  have  supposed  there  was  not  a soul 
in  the  street. 

The  landlord  began  to  scold  ; but,  finding  scolding 
of  no  avail,  he  summoned  a policeman.  The  police- 
man begged  me  to  excuse  the  people,  who  had  never 
seen  a foreigner  before  ; and  asked  me  if  I wished 
him  to  clear  the  street.  He  could  have  done  that  by 
merely  lifting  his  little  finger ; but  as  the  scene 
amused  me,  I begged  him  not  to  order  the  people 
away,  but  only  to  tell  the  boys  not  to  climb  upon  the 
awnings,  some  of  which  they  had  already  damaged. 
He  told  them  most  effectually,  speaking  in  a very 
low  voice.  During  all  the  rest  of  the  time  I was  in 
Urago,  no  one  dai’ed  to  go  near  the  awnings.  A Jap- 
anese policeman  never  speaks  more  than  once  about 
anything  new,  and  always  speaks  to  the  purpose. 


618  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


The  public  curiosity,  however,  lasted  without  abate 
for  three  days,  and  Would  liave  lasted  longer  if  I had 
not  fled  from  Urago.  Whenever  I went  out  I drew 
the  population  after  me  with  a pattering  of  geta  like 
the  sound  of  surf  moving  shingle.  Yet,  except  for 
that  particular  sound,  there  was  silence.  No  word 
was  spoken.  Whether  this  was  because  the  whole 
mental  faculty  was  so  strained  by  the  intensity  of  the 
desire  to  see  that  speech  became  impossible,  I am  not 
able  to  decide.  But  there  was  no  roughness  in  all 
that  curiosity  ; there  was  never  anything  approaching 
rudeness,  except  in  the  matter  of  ascending  to  my 
loom  without  leave  ; and  that  was  done  so  gently 
that  I could  not  wish  the  intruders  rebuked.  Never- 
theless,  three  days  of  such  experience  proved  trying. 
Despite  the  heat,  I had  to  close  the  doors  and  win- 
dows at  night  to  prevent  myself  being  watched  while 
asleep.  About  my  effects  I had  no  anxietj'^  at  all : 
thefts  are  never  committed  in  the  island.  But  that 
})erpetual  silent  crowding  about  me  became  at  last 
more  than  embarrassing.  It  was  innocent,  but  it  was 
weird.  It  made  me  feel  like  a ghost,  — a new  arrival 
in  the  Meido,  surrounded  by  shapes  without  voice. 

XXXII. 

There  is  very  little  privacy  of  any  sort  in  Japa- 
nese life.  Among  the  people,  indeed,  what  we  term 
privacy,  in  the  Occident,  does  not  exist.  There  are 
only  walls  of  paper  dividing  the  lives  of  men  ; there 
are  only  sliding  screens  instead  of  doors ; there  are 
neither  locks  nor  bolts  to  be  used  by  day  ; and  when- 
ever weather  permits,  the  fronts,  and  perhaps  even 
the  sides  of  the  house  are  literally  removed,  and  its 
interior  widely  opened  to  the  air,  the  light,  and  the 


FROM  HOKI  TO  OKI. 


619 


public  gaze.  Xot  even  the  rich  man  closes  his  front 
gate  by  day.  Within  a hotel  or  even  a common 
dwelling-house,  nobody  knocks  before  entering  your 
room  : there  is  nothing  to  knock  at  except  a shoji  or 
fusuma,  which  cannot  be  knocked  upon  without  be- 
ing broken.  And  in  this  world  of  paper  walls  and 
sunshine,  nobody  is  afraid  or  ashamed  of  fellow-men 
or  fellow-women.  Whatever  is  done,  is  done,  after  a 
fashion,  in  public.  Your  personal  habits,  your  idio- 
syncrasies (if  you  have  any),  your  foibles,  your  likes 
and  dislikes,  your  loves  or  your  hates,  must  be 
known  to  every  body.  Neither  vices  nor  virtues  can 
be  hidden  : there  is  absolutely  nowhere  to  hide  them. 
And  this  condition  has  lasted  from  the  most  ancient 
time.  There  has  never  been,  for  the  common  millions 
at  least,  even  the  idea  of  living  unobserved.  Life 
can  be  comfortably  and  happily  lived  in  Japan  only 
upon  the  condition  that  all  matters  I’elating  to  it  are 
open  to  the  inspection  of  the  community.  Which 
implies  exceptional  moral  conditions,  such  as  have 
no  being  in  the  West.  It  is  perfectly  comprehen- 
sible only  to  those  who  know  by  experience  the  ex- 
traordinary charm  of  Japanese  character,  the  infinite 
goodness  of  the  common  people,  their  instinctive  po- 
liteness, and  the  absence  among  them  of  any  tenden- 
cies to  indulge  in  criticism,  ridicule,  irony,  or  sarcasm. 
No  one  endeavors  to  expand  his  own  individuality 
by  belittling  his  fellow ; no  one  tries  to  make  himself 
appear  a superior  being  : any  such  attempt  would  be 
vain  in  a communitj'  where  the  weaknesses  of  each 
are  known  to  all,  where  nothing  can  be  concealed  or 
disguised,  and  where  affectation  could  only  be  re- 
garded as  a mild  form  of  insanity. 


620  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


XXXIII. 

Some  of  the  old  samurai  of  Matsue  are  living  in  the 
Oki  Islands.  When  the  great  military  caste  was  dis- 
established, a few  shrewd  men  decided  to  try  their 
fortunes  in  the  little  archipelago,  where  customs  re- 
mained old-fashioned  and  lands  were  cheap.  Several 
succeeded,  — probably  because  of  the  whole-souled 
honesty  and  simplicity  of  manners  in  the  islands  ; for 
samurai  have  seldom  elsewhere  been  able  to  succeed 
in  business  of  any  sort  when  obliged  to  compete  with 
experienced  traders.  Others  failed,  but  Avere  able 
to  ado23t  various  humble  occupations  which  gave 
them  the  means  to  live. 

Besides  these  aged  survivors  of  the  feudal  period,  I 
learned  there  were  in  Oki  several  children  of  once 
noble  families  — youths  and  maidens  of  illustrious 
extraction  — bravely  fating  the  new  conditions  of  life 
in  this  remotest  and  poorest  region  of  the  empire. 
Daughters  of  men  to  whom  the  {jopulation  of  a town 
once  bowed  down  w'ere  learning  the  bitter  toil  of  the 
rice-fields.  Youths,  who  might  in  another  era  have 
aspired  to  offices  of  state,  had  become  the  trusted 
servants  of  Oki  heimin.  Others,  again,  had  entered 
the  police,^  and  rightly  deemed  themselves  fortunate. 

No  doubt  that  change  of  civilization  forced  upon 
Japan  by  Christian  bayonets,  for  the  holy  motive  of 
gain,  may  yet  save  the  empire  from  perils  greater 
than  those  of  the  late  social  disintegration ; but  it 
was  cruelly  sudden.  To  imagine  the  consequence  of 

1 The  Japanese  police  are  nearly  all  of  the  samurai  class,  now  called 
shizoku.  I think  this  force  may  be  considered  the  most  perfect  police 
in  the  world  ; but  whether  it  will  retain  those  magnificent  qualities 
which  at  present  distinguish  it,  after  the  lapse  of  another  generation, 
is  doubtful.  It  is  now  the  samurai  blood  that  tells. 


FROM  HOKI  TO  OKI. 


621 


depriving  the  English  landed  gentry  of  their  reve- 
nues would  not  enable  one  to  realize  exactly  what  a 
similar  privation  signified  to  the  Japanese  samurai. 
For  the  old  wan-ior  caste  knew  only  the  arts  of 
courtesy  and  the  arts  of  w'ar. 

And  hearing  of  these  things,  I could  not  help 
tliinking  about  a strange  pageant  at  the  last  great 
Izumo  festival  of  Rakusan-jinja. 

XXXIV. 

The  hamlet  of  Rakuzan,  known  only  for  its  bright 
yellow  pottery  and  its  little  Shinto  temple,  drowses 
at  the  foot  of  a wooded  hill  about  one  ri  from  Matsue, 
beyond  a wilderness  of  rice-fields.  And  the  deity  of 
Rakuzan-jinja  is  Naomasa,  grandson  of  lyeyasu,  and 
father  of  the  Daimyb  of  iVIatsue. 

Some  of  the  Matsudaira  slumber  in  Buddhist 
ground,  guarded  by  tortoises  and  lions  of  stone,  in  the 
marvelous  old  courts  of  Gesshoji.  But  Naomasa,  the 
founder  of  their  long  line,  is  enshrined  at  Rakuzan  ; 
and  the  Izumo  peasants  still  clap  their  hands  in 
prayer  before  his  miya,  and  implore  his  love  and 
protection. 

Now  formerly  upon  each  annual  matsuri,  or  festi- 
val, of  Rakuzan-jinja,  it  was  customary  to  carry  the 
miya  of  Naomasa-San  from  the  village  temple  to  the 
castle  of  Matsue.  In  solemn  procession  it  -was  borne 
to  those  strange  old  family  temples  in  the  heart  of 
the  fortress-grounds,  — Go  - jo  - nai  - Inari  - Daimyojin, 
and  Kusunoki-Matsuhira-Inari-Daimyojin,  — whose 
mouldering  courts,  peopled  with  lions  and  foxes  of 
stone,  are  shadowed  by  enormous  trees.  After  cer- 
tain Shinto  rites  had  been  performed  at  both  temples, 
the  miya  was  carried  back  in  procession  to  Rakuzan. 


622  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


And  this  annual  ceremony  was  called  the  miyuki  or 
togyo,  — “ the  August  Going,”  or  Visit,  of  the  ances- 
tor to  the  ancestral  home. 

But  the  revolution  changed  all  things.  The  dai- 
myo  passed  away ; the  castles  fell  to  ruin ; the 
samurai  caste  was  abolished  and  dispossessed.  And 
the  miya  of  Lord  Naomasa  made  no  August  Visit  to 
the  home  of  the  Matsudaira  for  more  than  thirty 
years. 

But  it  came  to  pass  a little  time  ago,  that  certain 
old  men  of  Matsue  bethought  them  to  revive  once 
more  the  ancient  customs  of  the  Rakuzan  matsuri. 
And  there  was  a miyuki. 

The  raiya  of  Lord  Naomasa  was  placed  within  a 
barge,  draped  and  decorated,  and  so  conveyed  by 
river  and  canal  to  the  eastern  end  of  the  nld  IMatsu- 
bara  road,  along  whose  pine-shaded  way  the  daimyo 
formerly  departed  to  Yedo  on  their  annual  visit,  or 
returned  therefrom.  All  those  who  rowed  the  barge 
were  aged  samurai  who  had  been  wont  in  their  youth 
to  row  the  barge  of  Matsudaira-Dewa-no-Kami,  the 
last  Lord  of  Izumo.  They  wore  their  ancient  feudal 
costume  ; and  they  tried  to  sing  their  ancient  boat- 
song, — o-funa-uta.  But  more  than  a generation  had 
passed  since  the  last  time  they  had  sung  it ; and 
some  of  them  had  lost  their  teeth,  so  that  they  could 
not  pronounce  the  words  well ; and  all,  being  aged, 
lost  breath  easily  in  the  exertion  of  wielding  the  oars. 
Nevertheless  they  rowed  the  barge  to  the  place  ap- 
pointed. 

Thence  the  shrine  was  borne  to  a spot  by  the  side 
of  the  Matsubara  road,  where  anciently  stood  an 
August  Tea-House,  0-Chaya,  at  which  the  daimyo, 
returning  from  the  Shogun's  capital,  were  accustomed 


FROM  HOKI  TO  OKI. 


623 


to  rest  and  to  receive  their  faithful  retainers,  who 
always  came  in  procession  to  meet  them.  No  tea- 
house stands  there  now ; but,  in  accord  with  old  cus- 
tom, the  shrine  and  its  escort  waited  at  the  place, 
among  the  wild  - flowers  and  the  pines.  And  then 
was  seen  a strange  sight. 

For  there  came  to  meet  the  ghost  of  the  great  lord 
a long  procession  of  shapes  that  seemed  ghosts  also, 
— shapes  risen  out  of  the  dust  of  cemeteries  : warriors 
in  crested  helmets  and  masks  of  iron  and  breast- 
plates of  steel,  girded  with  two  swords ; and  spear- 
men wearing  queues ; and  retainers  in  kamishimo ; 
and  bearers  of  hasami-bako.  Yet  ghosts  these  were 
not,  but  aged  samurai  of  Matsue,  who  had  borne 
arms  in  the  service  of  the  last  of  the  daimyo.  And 
among  them  appeared  his  surviving  ministers,  the 
venerable  karo  ; and  these,  as  the  procession  turned 
city-ward,  took  their  old  places  of  honor,  and  marched 
before  the  shrine  valiantly,  though  bent  with  years. 

How  that  pageant  might  have  impressed  other 
strangers  I do  not  know.  For  me,  knowing  some- 
thing of  the  history  of  each  of  those  aged  men,  the 
scene  had  a signiticance  apart  from  its  story  of  for- 
gotten customs,  apart  from  its  interest  as  a feudal 
procession.  To-day  each  and  all  of  those  old  samu- 
rai are  unspeakably  poor.  Their  beautiful  homes 
vanished  long  ago ; their  gardens  have  been  turned 
into  rice-fields  ; their  household  treasures  were  cru- 
elly bargained  for,  and  bought  for  almost  nothing  by 
curio-dealers  to  be  resold  at  high  prices  to  foreigners 
at  the  open  ports.  And  yet  what  they  could  have 
obtained  considerable  money  for,  and  what  had 
ceased  to  be  of  any  service  to  them,  they  clung  to 
fondly  through  all  their  poverty  and  humiliation. 


G24  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


Never  could  they  be  induced  to  part  with  their  armor 
and  their  swords,  even  when  pressed  by  direst  want, 
under  the  new  and  harder  conditions  of  existence. 

The  river  banks,  the  streets,  the  balconies,  and 
blue-tiled  roofs  were  thronged.  There  was  a great 
quiet  as  the  procession  passed.  Young  people  gazed 
in  hushed  wonder,  feeling  the  rare  worth  of  that 
chance  to  look  upon  what  will  belong  in  the  future 
to  picture-books  only  and  to  the  quaint  Japanese 
stage.  And  old  men  wept  silently,  remembering 
their  youth. 

Well  spake  the  ancient  thinker:  ‘•'‘Everything  is 
only  for  a day.,  both  that  which  remembers.,  and  that 
which  is  remembered.” 


XXXV. 

Once  more,  homeward  bound,  I sat  upon  the 
cabin-roof  of  the  Oki-Saigo,  — this  time  happily  un- 
encumbered by  watermelons,  — and  tried  to  explain 
to  myself  the  feeling  of  melancholy  with  which  I 
watched  those  wild  island-coasts  vanishing  over  the 
pale  sea  into  the  white  horizon.  No  doubt  it  was 
inspired  partly  by  the  recollection  of  kindnesses  re- 
ceived from  many  whom  I will  never  meet  again  ; 
partly,  also,  by  my  familiarity  with  the  ancient  soil 
itself,  and  remembrance  of  shapes  and  places : the 
long  blue  visions  down  channels  between  islands,  — 
the  faint  gray  fishing  hamlets  hiding  in  stony  bays,  — 
the  elfish  oddity  of  narrow  streets  in  little  primitive 
towns,  — the  forms  and  tints  of  peak  and  vale  made 
lovable  by  daily  intimac}%  — the  crooked  broken  paths 
to  shadowed  shrines  of  gods  with  long  mysterious 
names,  — the  butterfly-drifting  of  yellow  sails  out  of 
the  glow  of  an  unknown  horizon.  Yet  I think  it  was 


FROM  HOKI  TO  OKI. 


625 


due  much  more  to  a particular  sensation  in  which 
every  memory  was  steeped  and  toned,  as  a landscape 
is  steeped  in  the  light  and  toned  in  the  colors  of  the 
morning : the  sensation  of  conditions  closer  to  Na- 
ture’s heart,  and  farther  from  the  monstrous  ma- 
chine-world of  Western  life  than  any  into  which  I 
had  ever  entered  north  of  the  torrid  zone.  And  then 
it  seemed  to  me  that  I loved  Oki  — in  spite  of  the 
cuttlefish,  — chiefly  because  of  having  felt  there,  as 
nowhere  else  in  Japan,  the  full  joy  of  escape  from 
the  far-reaching  influences  of  high-pressure  civiliza- 
tion,— the  delight  of  knowing  one’s  self,  in  Dozen  at 
least,  well  beyond  the  range  of  everything  artificial 
in  human  existence. 


XXIV 


OF  SOULS. 

Kinjueo,  the  ancient  gardener,  whose  head  shines 
like  an  ivory  ball,  sat  him  down  a moment  on  the 
edge  of  the  ita-no-ma  outside  my  study  to  smoke 
his  pipe  at  the  hibachi  always  left  there  for  him. 
And  as  he  smoked  he  found  occasion  to  reprove  the 
boy  who  assists  him.  What  the  boy  had  been  doing 
I did  not  exactly  know  ; but  I heard  Kinjuro  bid  him 
try  to  comport  himself  like  a creature  having  more 
than  one  Soul.  And  because  those  words  interested 
me  I went  out  and  sat  down  by  Kinjuro. 

“ O Kinjuro,”  I said,  “ whether  I myself  have  one 
or  more  Souls  I am  not  sure.  But  it  would  much 
please  me  to  learn  how  many  Souls  have  you.” 

“ I-the-Selfish-One  have  only  four  Souls,”  made 
answer  Kinjuro,  with  conviction  imperturbable. 

“Four?”  reechoed  I,  feeling  doubtful  of  having 
understood. 

“ Four,”  he  repeated.  “ But  that  boy  I think 
can  have  only  one  Soul,  so  much  is  he  wanting  in 
patience.” 

“And  in  what  manner,”  I asked,  “came  you  to 
learn  that  you  have  four  Souls  ? ” 

“ There  are  wise  men,”  made  he  answer,  while 
knocking  the  ashes  out  of  his  little  silver  pipe,  “ there 
are  wise  men  who  know  these  things.  And  there  is 
an  ancient  book  which  discourses  of  them.  Accord- 
ing to  the  age  of  a man,  and  the  time  of  his  birth, 
and  the  stars  of  heaven,  may  the  number  of  his  Souls 


OF  SOULS. 


627 


be  divined.  But  this  is  tbe  knowledge  of  old  men  ; 
the  young  folk  of  these  times  who  learn  the  things  of 
the  West  do  not  believe.” 

“ And  tell  me,  O Kinjuro,  do  there  now  exist  peo- 
ple having  more  Souls  than  you  ? ” 

“ Assuredly.  Some  have  five,  some  six,  some 
seven,  some  eight  Souls.  But  no  one  is  by  the  gods 
permitted  to  have  more  Souls  than  nine.” 

[Now  this,  as  a univer.sal  statement,  I could  not  be- 
lieve, remembering  a woman  upon  the  other  side  of 
the  world  who  possessed  many  generations  of  Souls, 
and  knew  how  to  use  them  all.  She  wore  her  Souls 
just  as  other  women  wear  their  dresses,  and  changed 
them  several  times  a day;  and  the  multitude  of 
dresses  in  the  wardrobe  of  Queen  Elizabeth  was  as 
nothing  to  the  multitude  of  this  wonderful  person’s 
Souls.  For  which  reason  she  never  appeared  the 
same  upon  two  different  occasions  ; and  she  changed 
her  thought  and  her  voice  with  her  Souls.  Some- 
times she  was  of  the  South,  and  her  eyes  were  brown  ; 
and  again  she  was  of  the  North,  and  her  eyes  were 
gray.  Sometimes  she  was  of  the  thirteenth,  and 
sometimes  of  the  eighteenth  century  ; and  people 
doubted  their  own  senses  when  they  saw  these  things ; 
and  they  tried  to  find  out  the  truth  by  begging  pho- 
tographs of  her,  and  then  comparing  them.  Now  the 
photographers  rejoiced  to  photograph  her  because 
she  was  more  than  fair ; but  presently  they  also  were 
confounded  by  the  discovery  that  she  was  never  the 
same  subject  twice.  So  the  men  who  most  ad- 
mired her  could  not  presume  to  fall  in  love  with  her 
because  that  would  have  been  absurd.  She  had 
altogether  too  many  Souls.  And  some  of  you  who 


028  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


read  this  I Lave  written  will  bear  witness  to  the 
verity  thereof.] 

“ Concerning  this  Country  of  the  Gods,  O Kinjuro, 
that  which  you  say  may  be  true.  But  there  are  other 
countries  having  only  gods  made  of  gold ; and  in  those 
countries  matters  are  not  so  well  arranged  ; and  the 
inhabitants  thereof  are  plagued  with  a plague  of 
Souls.  For  while  some  have  but  half  a Soul,  or  no 
Soul  at  all,  others  have  Souls  in  multitude  thrust 
upon  them  for  which  neither  nutriment  nor  employ 
can  be  found.  And  Souls  thus  situated  torment  ex- 
ceedingly their  owners.  . . . That  is  to  say,  Western 
Souls.  . . . But  tell  me,  I pray  you,  what  is  the  use 
of  having  more  than  one  or  two  Souls  ? ” 

“ Master,  if  all  had  the  same  number  and  quality 
of  Souls,  all  would  surely  be  of  one  mind.  But  that 
people  are  different  from  each  other  is  apparent ; and 
the  differences  among  them  are  because  of  the  differ- 
ences in  the  quality  and  the  number  of  their  Souls.” 
“ And  it  is  better  to  have  many  Souls  than  a few  ? ” 
“ It  is  better.” 

“ And  the  man  having  but  one  Soul  is  a being  im- 
perfect ? ” 

“ Very  imperfect.” 

“ Yet  a man  very  imperfect  might  have  had  an 
ancestor  perfect  ? ” 

“ That  is  true.” 

“ So  that  a man  of  to-day  possessing  but  one  Soul 
may  have  had  an  ancestor  with  nine  Souls  ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Then  what  has  become  of  those  other  eight  Souls 
which  the  ancestor  possessed,  but  which  the  descend- 
ant is  without  ? ” 


OF  SOULS. 


629 


“ All ! that  is  the  work  of  the  gods.  The  gods 
alone  fix  the  number  of  Souls  for  each  of  us.  To  the 
worthy  are  many  given  ; to  the  unworthy  few.” 

“ Not  from  the  parents,  then,  do  the  Souls  de- 
scend ? ” 

“ Nay  ! Most  ancient  the  Souls  are  : innumerable 
the  years  of  them.” 

“ And  this  I desire  to  know  : Can  a man  separate 
his  Souls  ? Can  he,  for  instance,  have  one  Soul  in 
Kyoto  and  one  in  Tokyo  and  one  in  Matsue,  all  at 
the  same  time  ? ” 

“ He  cannot ; they  remain  always  together.” 

“ How  ? One  within  the  other,  — like  the  little 
lacquered  boxes  of  an  inro  ? ” 

“ Nay  : that  none  but  the  gods  know.” 

“ And  the  Souls  are  never  separated  ? ” 

“ Sometimes  they  may  be  separated.  But  if  the 
Souls  of  a man  be  separated,  that  man  becomes 
mad.  Mad  people  are  those  who  have  lost  one  of 
their  Souls.” 

“ But  after  death  what  becomes  of  the  Souls  ? ” 

“ They  remain  still  together.  . . . When  a man 
dies  his  Souls  ascend  to  the  roof  of  the  house.  And 
they  stay  upon  the  roof  for  the  space  of  nine  and 
forty  days.” 

“ On  what  part  of  the  roof  ? ” 

“ On  the  yane-no-mune,  — upon  the  Ridge  of  the 
Roof  they  stay.” 

“■  Can  they  be  seen  ? ” 

“ Nay  : they  are  like  the  air  is.  To  and  fro  upon 
the  Ridge  of  the  Roof  they  move,  like  a little  wind.” 
“ Why  do  they  not  stay  upon  the  roof  for  fifty  days 
instead  of  forty-nine  ? ” 

“ Seven  weeks  is  the  time  allotted  them  before 


630  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


they  must  depart : seven  weeks  make  the  measure  of 
forty-nine  days.  But  why  this  should  be,  I cannot 
tell.” 

I was  not  unaware  of  the  ancient  belief  that  the 
spirit  of  a dead  man  haunts  for  a time  the  roof  of  his 
dwelling,  because  it  is  referred  to  quite  impressively 
in  many  Japanese  dramas,  among  others  in  the  play 
called  Kagami-yama,  which  makes  the  people  weep. 
But  I had  not  before  heard  of  triplex  and  quadruplex 
and  other  yet  more  highly  complex  Souls ; and  I 
questioned  Kinjuro  vainly  in  the  hope  of  learning 
the  authority  for  his  beliefs.  They  were  the  beliefs 
of  his  fathers  : that  was  all  he  knew.^ 

1 Afterwards  I found  that  the  old  man  had  expressed  to  me  only 
one  popular  form  of  a belief  which  would  require  a large  book  to  fully 
explain,  — a belief  founded  upon  Chinese  astrology’,  but  possibly 
modified  by  Buddhist  and  by  Shinto  ideas.  This  notion  of  compound 
Souls  cannot  be  explained  at  all  without  a prior  knowledge  of  the 
astroloirieal  relation  between  the  Chinese  Zodiacal  Signs  and  the  Ten 
Celestial  Stems.  Some  understanding  of  these  may  be  obtained  from 
the  curious  article  “ Time,”  in  Professor  Chamberlain’s  admirable 
little  book.  Things  .lapanese.  The  relation  having  been  perceived,  it 
is  further  necessary  to  know  that  under  the  Chinese  astrological  sys- 
tem each  year  is  under  the  influence  of  one  or  other  of  the  “ Five 
Elements,” — Wood,  Fire,  Earth,  Metal,  Water;  and  according  to 
the  day  and  year  of  one’s  birth,  one’s  temperament  is  celestially  de- 
cided. A Japanese  mnemonic  ver.se  tells  us  the  number  of  souls  or 
natures  corresponding  to  each  of  the  Five  Elemental  Influences, — 
namely,  nine  souls  for  Wood,  three  for  Fire,  one  for  Earth,  seven  for 
Metal,  five  for  Water : — 

Kiku  karani 
Himilsu  no  yama  ni 
Tsnchi  hilotsu 
Xanalsu  kane  to  zo 
Go  suiryo  are. 

Multiplied  into  ten  by  being  each  one  divided  into  “ Elder  ” and 
“ Younger,”  the  Five  Elements  become  the  Ten  Celestial  Stems;  and 
their  influences  are  commingled  with  those  of  the  Rat,  Bull,  Tiger, 
Hare,  Dragon,  Serpent,  Horse,  Goat,  Ape,  Cock,  Dog,  and  Boar  (the 
twelve  Zodiacal  Signs),  — ail  of  which  have  relations  to  time,  place. 


OF  SOULS. 


631 


Like  most  Izumo  folk,  Kinjuro  was  a Buddhist  as 
well  as  a Shintoist.  As  the  former  he  belonged  to 
the  Zen-shu,  as  the  latter  to  the  Izumo-Taisha.  Yet 
his  ontology  seemed  to  me  not  of  either.  Buddhism 
does  not  teach  the  doctrine  of  compound-multiple 
Souls.  There  are  old  Shinto  books  inaccessible  to 
the  multitude  which  speak  of  a doctrine  very  re- 
motely akin  to  Kinjuro's;  but  Kinjuro  had  never 
seen  them.  Those  books  say  that  each  of  us  has  two 
souls,  — the  Ara-tama,  or  Rough  Soul,  which  is  vindic- 
tive ; and  the  Nigi-tama,  or  Gentle  Soul,  which  is  all- 
forgiving.  Furthermore,  we  are  all  possessed  by  the 
spirit  of  Oho-maga-tsu-hi-no-Kami,  the  “ Wondrous 
Deity  of  Exceeding  Great  Evils;  ” also  by  the  spirit 
of  Oho-naho-bi-no-Kami,  the  “ Wondrous  Great  Rec- 
tifying Deity,”  a counteracting  influence.  These 
were  not  exactly  the  ideas  of  Kinjuro.  But  I re- 
membered something  Hirata  wrote  which  reminded 
me  of  Kinjuro’s  words  about  a possible  separation  of 
souls.  Flirata’s  teaching  was  that  the  ara-tama  of  a 
man  may  leave  his  body,  assume  his  shape,  and  with- 
out his  knowledge  destroy  a hated  enemy.  So  I 

life,  luck,  misfortune,  etc.  But  even  these  hints  pive  no  idea  what- 
ever how  enonnousl)'  complicated  the  subject  really  is. 

The  book  the  old  pardener  referred  to  — once  as  widely  known  in 
Japan  as  ever  fortune-tellinp  book  in  any  European  country  — was 
the  San-ze-s6,  copies  of  which  may  still  be  picked  up.  Contrary  to 
Kinjuro’s  opinion,  however,  it  is  held,  by  those  learned  in  such  Chinese 
matters,  just  as  bad  to  have  too  many  souls  as  to  have  too  few.  To 
have  nine  souls  is  to  be  too  “many-minded,”  — without  fi.xed  pur- 
pose ; to  have  only  one  soul  is  to  lack  quick  intelligence.  According 
to  the  Chinese  astrological  ideas,  the  word  “ natures  ” or  “ characters  ” 
would  perhaps  be  more  accurate  than  the  word  “ souls  ” in  this  ca.se. 
There  is  a world  of  curious  fancies,  born  out  of  these  beliefs.  For 
one  example  of  hundreds,  a person  having  a Fire-nature  mu.st  not 
marry  one  having  a Water-nature.  Hence  the  proverbial  saying  about 
two  who  cannot  agree,  — “They  are  like  Fire  and  Water.” 

VOL.  II. 


632  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


asked  Kinjurd  about  it.  He  said  be  bad  never  beard 
of  a nigi-taina  or  an  ara-tama;  but  be  told  me  tbis: — 

“ Master,  when  a man  lias  been  discovered  by  bis 
wife  to  be  secretly  enamored  of  another,  it  sometimes 
happens  that  the  guilty  woman  is  seized  with  a sick- 
ness that  no  physician  can  cure.  For  one  of  the 
Souls  of  the  wife,  moved  exceedingly  by  anger,  passes 
into  the  body  of  that  woman  to  destroy  her.  But  the 
wife  also  sickens,  or  loses  her  mind  awhile,  because 
of  the  absence  of  her  Soul. 

“ And  there  is  another  and  more  wonderful  thing 
known  to  us  of  Nippon,  which  you,  being  of  the 
West,  may  never  have  heard.  By  the  power  of  the 
gods,  for  a righteous  purpose,  sometimes  a Soul  may 
be  withdrawn  a little  while  from  its  body,  and  be 
made  to  utter  its  most  secret  thought.  But  no  suf- 
fering to  the  body  is  then  caused.  And  the  wonder 
is  wrought  in  this  wise  : — 

“ A man  loves  a beautiful  girl  whom  he  is  at  lib- 
erty to  marry  ; but  he  doubts  whether  he  can  hope 
to  make  her  love  him  in  return.  He  seeks  the  kan- 
nushi  of  a certain  Shinto  temple,^  and  tells  of  his 
doubt,  and  asks  the  aid  of  the  gods  to  solve  it.  Then 
the  priests  demand,  not  his  name,  but  his  age  and 
the  year  and  day  and  hour  of  his  birth,  which  they 
write  down  for  the  gods  to  know;  and  they  bid  the 
man  return  to  the  temple  after  the  space  of  seven 
days. 

“ And  during  those  seven  days  the  priests  offer 
prayer  to  the  gods  that  the  doubt  may  be  solved ; 
and  one  of  them  each  morning  bathes  all  his  body  in 
cold,  pure  water,  and  at  each  repast  eats  only  food 

* Usually  an  Inari  temple.  Such  things  are  never  done  at  the 
great  Shinto  shrines. 


OF  SOULS. 


633 


prepared  with  holy  fire.  And  on  the  eighth  day  the 
man  returns  to  the  temple,  and  enters  an  inner 
chamber  where  the  priests  receive  him. 

“A  ceremony  is  performed,  and  certain  prayers 
are  said,  after  which  all  wait  in  silence.  And  then, 
the  priest  who  has  performed  the  rites  of  purifica- 
tion suddenly  begins  to  tremble  violently  in  all  his 
body,  like  one  trembling  with  a great  fever.  And 
this  is  because,  by  the  power  of  the  gods,  the  Soul 
of  the  girl  whose  love  is  doubted  has  entered,  all 
fearfully,  into  the  body  of  that  priest.  She  does  not 
know ; for  at  that  time,  wherever  she  may  be,  she  is 
in  a deep  sleep  from  which  nothing  can  arouse  her. 
But  her  Soul,  having  been  summoned  into  the  body 
of  the  priest,  can  speak  nothing  save  the  truth ; and 
It  is  made  to  tell  all  Its  thought.  And  the  priest 
speaks  not  with  his  own  voice,  but  with  the  voice  of 
the  Soul;  and  he  speaks  in  the  person  of  the  Soul, 
saying:  ‘I  love,’  or  ‘ I hate,’  according  as  the  truth 
may  be,  and  in  the  language  of  women.  If  there  be 
hate,  then  the  reason  of  the  hate  is  spoken;  but  if  the 
answer  be  of  love,  there  is  little  to  say.  And  then 
the  trembling  of  the  priest  stops,  for  the  Soul  passes 
from  him  ; and  he  falls  forward  upon  his  face  like 
one  dead,  and  long  so  remains.” 

“ Tell  me,  Kinjuro,”  I asked,  after  all  these  queer 
things  had  been  related  to  me,  “ have  you  yourself 
ever  known  of  a Soul  being  removed  by  the  power  of 
the  gods,  and  placed  in  the  heart  of  a priest  ? ” 

“ Yes  : I myself  have  known  it.” 

I remained  silent  and  waited.  The  old  man  emp- 
tied his  little  pipe,  threw  it  down  beside  the  hibachi, 
folded  his  hands,  and  looked  at  the  lotus-flowers  for 


634  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


some  time  before  he  spoke  again.  Then  he  smiled 
and  said : — 

“ IMaster,  I married  when  I was  very  young.  For 
many  years  we  had  no  children  : then  my  wife  at 
last  gave  me  a son,  and  became  a Buddha.  But  my 
son  lived  and  grew  up  handsome  and  strong  ; and 
when  the  Revolution  came,  he  joined  the  armies  of 
the  Son  of  Heaven  ; and  he  died  the  death  of  a man 
in  the  great  war  of  the  South,  in  Kyushu.  I loved 
him ; and  I wept  with  joy  when  I heard  that  he  had 
been  able  to  die  for  our  Sacred  Emperor:  since  there 
is  no  more  noble  death  for  the  son  of  a samurai.  So 
they  buried  my  boy  far  away  from  me  in  Kyushu, 
u[)on  a hill  near  Kumamoto,  which  is  a famous  city^ 
with  a strong  garrison  ; and  I went  there  to  make 
his  tomb  beautiful.  But  his  name  is  here  also,  iu 
Ninomaru,  graven  on  the  monument  to  the  men  of 
Izumo  who  fell  in  the  good  fight  for  loyalty  and 
honor  in  our  emperor’s  holy  cause  ; and  when  1 see 
his  name  there,  my  heart  laughs,  and  1 speak  to  him, 
and  then  it  seems  as  if  he  were  walking  beside  me 
again,  under  the  great  pines.  . . . But  all  that  is 
another  matter. 

“ I sorrowed  for  my  wife.  All  the  years  we  had 
dwelt  together,  no  unkind  w'ord  had  ever  been  ut- 
tered between  us.  And  when  she  died,  I thought 
never  to  marry  again.  But  after  two  more  years 
had  passed,  my  father  and  mother  desired  a daughter 
in  the  house,  and  they  told  me  of  their  wish,  and  of 
a girl  who  was  beautiful  and  of  good  family,  though 
poor.  The  family  were  of  our  kindred,  and  the  girl 
was  their  only  support : she  wove  garments  of  silk 
and  garments  of  cotton,  and  for  this  she  received  but 


OF  SOULS. 


635 


little  money.  And  because  she  was  filial  and  comely, 
and  our  kindred  not  fortunate,  my  parents  desired 
that  I should  marry  her  and  help  her  people ; for  in 
those  days  we  had  a small  income  of  rice.  Then, 
being  accustomed  to  obey  my  parents,  I suffered 
them  to  do  what  they  thought  best.  So  the  nakodo 
was  summoned,  and  the  arrangements  for  the  wed- 
dincr  began. 

O O 

“ Twice  I was  able  to  see  the  girl  in  the  house  of 
her  parents.  And  I thought  myself  fortunate  the  first 
time  I looked  upon  her  ; for  she  was  very  comely  and 
young.  But  the  second  time,  I perceived  she  had 
been  w'eeping,  and  that  her  eyes  avoided  mine.  Then 
my  heart  sank  ; for  I thought : She  dislikes  me  ; and 
they  are  forcing  her  to  this  thing.  Then  I resolved 
to  question  the  gods ; and  I caused  the  marriage  to 
be  delayed  ; and  I went  to  the  temple  of  Yanagi-no- 
Inari-Sama,  which  is  in  the  Street  Zaimokucho. 

“ And  when  the  trembling  came  upon  him,  the 
priest,  speaking  with  the  Soul  of  that  maid,  declared 
to  me  : ‘ My  heart  hates  you,  and  the  sight  of  your 
face  gives  me  sickness,  because  I love  another,  and 
because  this  marriage  is  forced  upon  me.  Yet  though 
my  heart  hates  you,  I must  marry  you  because  my 
parents  are  poor  and  old,  and  I alone  cannot  long 
continue  to  support  them,  for  my  work  is  killing  me. 
But  though  I may  strive  to  be  a dutiful  wife,  there 
never  will  be  gladness  in  your  house  because  of  me ; 
for  my  heart  hates  you  with  a great  and  lasting  hate ; 
and  the  sound  of  your  voice  makes  a sickness  in  my 
breast  (^koe  kiite  mo  mum  ga  xoaruku  naru)  ; and 
only  to  see  your  face  makes  me  w'ish  that  I were 
dead  {kao  miru  to  shinitaku  naru').' 

“ Thus  knowing  the  truth,  I told  it  to  my  parents  ; 


636  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


and  I wrote  a letter  of  kind  words  to  the  maid,  pray- 
ing pardon  for  the  pain  I had  unknowingly  caused 
her ; and  I feigned  long  illness,  that  the  marriage 
might  be  broken  oflf  without  gossip  ; and  we  made  a 
gift  to  that  family  ; and  the  maid  was  glad.  For 
she  was  enabled  at  a later  time  to  marry  the  young 
man  she  loved.  My  parents  never  pressed  me  again 
to  take  a wife  ; and  since  their  death  I have  lived 
alone.  . . . O Master,  look  upon  the  extreme  wick- 
edness of  that  boy  ! ” 

Taking  advantage  of  our  conversation,  Kinjuro's 
young  assistant  had  improvised  a rod  and  line  with 
a bamboo  stick  and  a bit  of  string ; and  had  fastened 
to  the  end  of  the  string  a pellet  of  tobacco  stolen 
from  the  old  man’s  pouch.  With  this  bait  he  had 
been  fishing  in  the  lotus  pond ; and  a frog  had  swal- 
lowed it,  and  was  now  suspended  high  above  the 
pebbles,  sprawling  in  rotary  motion,  kicking  in 
frantic  spasms  of  disgust  and  despair.  “ Kaji  I ” 
shouted  the  gardener. 

The  boy  dropped  his  rod  with  a laugh,  and  ran  to 
us  unabashed  ; while  the  frog,  having  disgorged  the 
tobacco,  plopped  back  into  the  lotus  pond.  Evidently 
Kaji  was  not  afraid  of  scoldings. 

“ Gosho  ga  wand  ! ” declared  the  old  man,  shaking 
his  ivory  head.  “ O Kaji,  much  I fear  that  your  next 
birth  will  be  bad ! Do  I buy  tobacco  for  frogs  ? 
Master,  said  I not  rightly  this  boy  has  but  one 
Soul?” 


XXV 


OF  GHOSTS  AND  GOBLINS. 


I. 

Theke  was  a Buddha,  according  to  the  Hokkekyo, 
who  “ even  assumed  the  shape  of  a goblin  to  preach 
to  such  as  were  to  be  converted  by  a goblin.”  And 
in  the  same  Sutra  may  be  found  this  promise  of  the 
Teacher  : “ WJule  he  is  divelling  lone! y in  the  wilder- 
ness, I xoill  send  thither  goblins  in  great  number  to 
keep  him  company."  The  appalling  character  of  this 
promise  is  indeed  somewhat  modified  by  the  assur- 
ance that  gods  also  are  to  be  sent.  But  if  ever  I 
become  a holy  man,  I shall  take  heed  not  to  dwell 
in  the  wilderness,  because  I have  seen  Japanese  gob- 
lins, and  I do  not  like  them. 

Kinjuro  showed  them  to  me  last  night.  They  had 
come  to  town  for  the  matsuri  of  our  own  ujigami, 
or  parish-temple ; and,  as  there  were  many  curious 
things  to  be  seen  at  the  night  festival,  we  started  for 
the  temple  after  dai’k,  Kinjuro  carrying  a paper  lan- 
tern painted  with  my  crest. 

It  had  snowed  heavily  in  the  morning  ; but  now 
the  sky  and  the  sharp  still  air  were  clear  as  diamond  ; 
and  the  crisp  snow  made  a pleasant  crunching  sound 
under  our  feet  as  we  walked  ; and  it  occurred  to  me 
to  say  : “ O Kinjuro,  is  there  a God  of  Snow  ? ” 

“ I cannot  tell,”  replied  Kinjuro.  “ There  be  many 
gods  I do  not  know  ; and  there  is  not  any  man  who 
knows  the  names  of  all  the  gods.  But  there  is  the 
Yuki-Onna,  the  Woman  of  the  Snow.” 


638  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


“ And  what  is  the  Yuki-Onna  ? ” 

“ She  is  the  White  One  that  makes  the  Faces  in 
the  snow.  She  does  not  any  harm,  only  makes  afraid. 
By  day  she  lifts  only  her  head,  and  frightens  those 
who  journey  alone.  But  at  night  she  rises  up  some- 
times, taller  than  the  trees,  and  looks  about  a little 
while,  and  then  falls  back  in  a shower  of  snow.”  ^ 

“ What  is  her  face  like  ? ” 

“ It  is  all  white,  white.  It  is  an  enormous  face. 
And  it  is  a lonesome  face.” 

[The  word  Kinjuro  used  was  samashi.  Its  com- 
mon meaning  is  “ lonesome  ” ; but  he  used  it,  I think, 
in  the  sense  of  “ weird.”] 

“Did  you  ever  see  her,  Kinjuro  ? ” 

“ Master,  I never  saw  her.  But  my  father  told  me 
that  once  when  he  was  a child,  he  wanted  to  go  to  a 
neighbor’s  house  through  the  snow  to  play  with  an- 
other little  boy  ; and  that  on  the  way  he  saw  a great 
white  Face  rise  up  from  the  snow  and  look  lone- 
somely  about,  so  that  he  cried  for  fear  and  ran  back. 
Then  his  people  all  went  out  and  looked ; but  there 
was  only  snow  ; and  then  they  knew  that  he  had  seen 
the  Yuki-Onna.” 

“ And  in  these  days,  Kinjuro,  do  people  ever  see 
her  ? ” 

“ Yes.  Those  who  make  the  pilgrimage  to  Yabu- 
mura,  in  the  period  called  Dai-Kan,  which  is  the 
Time  of  the  Greatest  Cold,^  they  sometimes  see  her.” 
“ What  is  there  at  Yabumura,  Kinjuro?  ” 

“ There  is  the  Yabu-jinja,  which  is  an  ancient  and 

1 In  other  parts  of  .Japan  I have  heard  the  Yuki-Onna  described  as 
a very  beautiful  phantom  who  lures  young  men  to  lonesome  places 
for  the  purpose  of  sucking  their  blood. 

'■*  In  Izumo  the  Dai-Kan,  or  Period  of  Greatest  Cold,  falls  in  Feb- 
ruary. 


OF  GHOSTS  AND  GOBLINS. 


639 


famous  temple  of  Yabu-no-Tenno-San,  — the  God  of 
Colds,  Kaze-no-Kami.  It  is  high  upon  a hill,  nearly 
nine  ri  from  Matsue.  And  the  great  matsuri  of  that 
temple  is  held  upon  the  tenth  and  eleventh  days  of 
the  Second  Month.  And  on  those  days  strange 
things  may  be  seen.  For  one  who  gets  a very  bad 
cold  prays  to  the  deity  of  Yabu-jinja  to  cure  it,  and 
takes  a vow  to  make  a pilgrimage  naked  to  the  tem- 
ple at  the  time  of  the  matsuri.” 

“ Naked  ? ” 

“ Yes  : the  pilgrims  wear  only  waraji,  and  a little 
cloth  round  their  loins.  And  a great  many  men  and 
women  go  naked  through  the  snow  to  the  temple, 
though  the  snow  is  deep  at  that  time.  And  each  man 
carries  a bunch  of  gohei  and  a naked  sword  as  gifts 
to  the  temple  ; and  each  woman  carries  a metal  mir- 
. ror.  And  at  the  temple,  the  priests  receive  them,  per- 
forming curious  rites.  For  the  priests  then,  accord- 
ing to  ancient  custom,  attire  themselves  like  sick 
men,  and  lie  down  and  groan,  and  drink  potions  made 
of  herbs,  prepared  after  the  Chinese  manner.” 

“ But  do  not  some  of  the  pilgrims  die  of  cold,  Kin- 
juro  ' 

“No:  our  Izumo  peasants  are  hardy.  Besides, 
they  run  swiftly,  so  that  they  reach  the  temple  all 
warm.  And  before  returning  they  put  on  thick 
warm  robes.  But  sometimes,  upon  the  way,  they  see 
the  Yuki-Onna.” 

n. 

Each  side  of  the  street  leading  to  the  miya  was 
illuminated  with  a line  of  paper  lanterns  bearing  holy 
symbols ; and  the  immense  court  of  the  temple  had 
been  transformed  into  a town  of  booths,  and  shops, 
and  temporary  theatres.  In  spite  of  the  cold,  the 


640  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


crowd  was  prodigious.  There  seemed  to  be  all  the 
usual  attractions  of  a matsuri,  and  a number  of  un- 
usual ones.  Among  the  familiar  lures,  I missed  at 
this  festival  only  the  maiden  wearing  an  obi  of  living 
snakes;  probably  it  had  become  too  cold  for  the 
snakes.  There  were  several  fortune-tellers  and  jug- 
glers ; there  were  acrobats  and  dancers ; there  was  a 
man  making  pictures  out  of  sand ; and  there  was 
a menagerie  containing  an  emu  from  Australia,  and 
a couple  of  enormous  bats  from  the  Loo  Choo  Is- 
lands, — bats  trained  to  do  several  things.  I did  rev- 
erence to  the  gods,  and  bought  some  extraordinary 
toys ; and  then  we  went  to  look  for  the  goblins. 
They  were  domiciled  in  a large  permanent  structure, 
rented  to  showmen  on  special  occasions. 

Gigantic  characters  signifying  “ IKI  - NnSTGYO,” 
painted  upon  the  sign-board  at  the  entrance,  partly 
hinted  the  nature  of  the  exhibition.  Iki-ningyo 
(“  living  images  ”)  somewhat  correspond  to  our  Occi- 
dental “ wax  figures”;  but  the  equally  realistic  Jap- 
anese creations  are  made  of  much  cheaper  material. 
Having  bought  two  wooden  tickets  for  one  sen  each, 
we  entered,  and  passed  behind  a curtain  to  find  our- 
selves in  a long  corridor  lined  with  booths,  or  rather 
matted  compartments,  about  the  size  of  small  rooms. 
Each  space,  decorated  with  scenery  appropriate  to  the 
subject,  was  occupied  by  a group  of  life-size  figures. 
The  group  nearest  the  entrance,  representing  two 
men  playing  samisen  and  two  geisha  dancing,  seemed 
to  me  without  excuse  for  being,  until  Kinjuro  had 
translated  a little  placard  before  it,  announcing 
that  one  of  the  figures  was  a living  person.  We 
watched  in  vain  for  a wink  or  palpitation.  Suddenly 
one  of  the  musicians  laughed  aloud,  shook  his  head, 


OF  GHOSTS  AND  GOBLINS.  641 

and  began  to  play  and  sing.  The  deception  was  per- 
fect. 

The  remaining  groups,  twenty-four  in  number, 
were  powerfully  impressive  in  their  peculiar  way, 
representing  mostly  famous  popular  traditions  or 
sacred  myths.  Feudal  heroisms,  the  memoiy  of 
which  stirs  every  Japanese  heart ; legends  of  filial 
piety;  Buddhist  miracles,  and  stories  of  emperors 
were  among  the  subjects.  Sometimes,  however,  the 
realism  was  brutal,  as  in  one  scene  representing  the 
body  of  a woman  lying  in  a pool  of  blood,  with 
brains  scattei'ed  by  a sword  sti’oke.  Nor  was  this 
unpleasantness  altogether  atoned  for  by  her  miracu- 
lous resuscitation  in  the  adjoining  compartment, 
where  she  reappeared  returning  thanks  in  a Nichiren 
temple,  and  converting  her  slaughterer,  who  hap- 
pened, by  some  extraordinary  accident,  to  go  there  at 
the  same  time. 

At  the  termination  of  the  corridor  there  huncr  a 

O 

black  curtain,  behind  which  screams  could  be  heard. 
And  above  the  black  curtain  was  a placard  inscribed 
with  the  promise  of  a gift  to  anybody  able  to  trav- 
erse the  mysteries  beyond  without  being  frightened. 

“ Master,”  said  Kinjuro,  “the  goblins  are  inside.” 

We  lifted  the  veil,  and  found  ourselves  in  a sort  of 
lane  between  hedges,  and  behind  the  hedges  we  saw 
tombs ; we  were  in  a graveyard.  There  were  real 
weeds  and  trees,  and  sotoba  and  haka,  and  the  effect 
was  quite  natural.  ^loreover,  as  the  roof  was  very 
lofty,  and  kept  invisible  by  a clever  arrangement  of 
lights,  all  seemed  darkness  only ; and  this  gave  one 
a sense  of  being  out  under  the  night,  a feeling  accen- 
tuated by  the  chill  of  the  air.  And  here  and  there 
we  could  discern  sinister  shapes,  mostly  of  super- 


642  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


human  stature,  some  seeming  to  wait  in  dim  places, 
others  floating  above  the  graves.  Quite  near  us, 
towering  above  the  hedge  on  our  right,  was  a Bud- 
dhist priest,  with  his  back  turned  to  us. 

“A  yamabushi,  an  exorciser?”  I queried  of  Kin- 
juro. 

“No,”  said  Kinjuro;  “see  how  tall  he  is.  I think 
that  must  be  a Tanuki-Bdzu.” 

The  Tanuki-Bdzu  is  the  priestly  form  assumed  by 
the  goblin-badger  {tanuki^  for  the  purpose  of  decoy- 
ing belated  ti’avelers  to  destruction.  We  went  on, 
and  looked  up  into  his  face.  It  was  a nightmare, — 
his  face. 

“In  truth  a Tanuki-Bdzu,”  said  Kinjurd.  “What 
does  the  Master  honorably  think  concerning  it?” 

Instead  of  replying,  I jumped  back  ; for  the  mon- 
strous thing  had  suddenly  reached  over  the  hedge 
and  clutched  at  me,  with  a moan.  Then  it  fell  back, 
swaying  and  creaking.  It  was  moved  by  invisible 
strings. 

“I  think,  Kinjurd,  that  it  is  a nasty,  horrid  thing. 
. . . But  I shall  not  claim  the  present.” 

We  laughed,  and  proceeded  to  consider  a Three- 
Eyed  Friar  (^Mitsu-me-Nyudo^ . The  Three -Eyed 
Friar  also  watches  for  the  unwary  at  night.  His 
face  is  soft  and  smiling  as  the  face  of  a Buddha,  but 
he  has  a hideous  eye  in  the  summit  of  his  shaven  pate, 
which  can  only  be  seen  when  seeing  it  does  no  good. 
The  Mitsu-me-Nyudd  made  a grab  at  Kinjurd,  and 
startled  him  almost  as  much  as  the  Tanuki-Bdzu  had 
startled  me. 

Then  we  looked  at  the  Yama-Uba,  — the  “Moun- 
tain Nurse.”  She  catches  little  children  and  nurses 
them  for  a while,  and  then  devours  them.  In  her 


OF  GHOSTS  AND  GOBLINS. 


643 


face  she  has  no  mouth;  but  she  has  a mouth  in  the 
top  of  her  head,  under  her  hair.  The  Yama-Uba  did 
not  clutch  at  us,  because  her  hands  were  occupied 
with  a nice  little  boy,  whom  she  was  just  going  to 
eat.  The  child  had  been  made  wonderfully  pretty 
to  heighten  the  effect. 

Then  I saw  the  spectre  of  a woman  hovering  in 
the  air  above  a tomb  at  some  distance,  so  that  I felt 
safer  in  observing  it.  It  had  no  eyes ; its  long  hair 
hung  loose  ; its  white  robe  floated  light  as  smoke.  I 
thought  of  a statement  in  a composition  by  one  of 
my  pupils  about  ghosts  : “ Their  greatest  Peculiarity 
is  that  They  have  no  feet."  Then  I jumped  again,  for 
the  thing,  quite  soundlessly  but  very  swiftly,  made 
through  the  air  at  me. 

And  the  rest  of  our  journey  among  the  graves  was 
little  more  than  a succession  of  like  experiences ; but 
it  was  made  amusing  by  the  screams  of  women,  and 
bursts  of  laughter  from  people  who  lingered  only  to 
watch  the  effect  upon  others  of  what  had  scared 
themselves. 

in. 

Forsaking  the  goblins,  we  visited  a little  open-air 
theatre  to  see  two  girls  dance.  After  they  had 
danced  awhile,  one  girl  produced  a sword  and  cut  off 
the  other  girl’s  head,  and  put  it  upon  a table,  where 
it  opened  its  mouth  and  began  to  sing.  All  this  was 
very  prettily  done  ; but  my  mind  was  still  haunted 
by  the  goblins.  So  I questioned  Kinjuro  ; — 

“ Kinjuro,  those  goblins  of  which  we  the  ningyo 
have  seen, — do  folk  believe  in  the  reality  thereof?  ” 

“Not  any  more,”  answered  Kinjuro,  — “not  at 
least  among  the  people  of  the  city.  Perhaps  in  the 
country  it  may  not  be  so.  We  believe  in  the  Lord 


G44  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


Buddha;  we  believe  in  the  ancient  gods  ; and  there 
be  many  who  believe  the  dead  sometimes  return  to 
avenge  a cruelty  or  to  compel  an  act  of  justice.  But 
we  do  not  now  believe  all  that  was  believed  in  an- 
cient time.  . . . Master,”  he  added,  as  we  reached 
another  queer  exhibition,  “ it  is  only  one  sen  to  go 
to  hell,  if  the  IMaster  would  like  to  go  ” — 

“Very  good,  Kinjurd,”  I made  reply.  “Pay  two 
sen  that  we  may  both  go  to  hell.” 

IV. 

And  we  passed  behind  a curtain  into  a big  room 
full  of  curious  clicking  and  squeaking  noises.  These 
noises  wei*e  made  by  unseen  wheels  and  pulleys  mov- 
ing a multitude  of  ningyo  upon  a broad  shelf  about 
breast-high,  which  surrounded  the  apartment  upon 
three  sides.  These  ningyo  were  not  iki-ningyo,  but 
very  small  images,  — puppets.  They  represented  all 
things  in  the  Under- World. 

The  first  I saw  was  Sozu-Baba,  the  Old  Woman  of 
the  River  of  Ghosts,  who  takes  away  the  garments 
of  Souls.  The  garments  were  hanging  upon  a tree 
beliind  her.  She  was  tall ; she  rolled  her  green  eyes 
and  gnashed  her  long  teeth,  while  the  shivering  of 
the  little  white  souls  before  her  was  as  a trembling 
of  butterflies.  Farther  on  appeared  Emma  Dai-0, 
great  King  of  Hell,  nodding  grimly.  At  his  right 
hand,  upon  their  tripod,  the  heads  of  Kaguhana  and 
Mirume,  the  Witnesses,  whirled  as  upon  a wheel. 
At  his  left,  a devil  was  busy  sawing  a Soul  in  two  ; 
and  I noticed  that  he  used  his  saw  like  a Japanese 
carpenter, — pulling  it  towards  him  instead  of  push- 
ing it.  And  then  various  exhibitions  of  the  tortures 
of  the  damned.  A liar  bound  to  a post  was  having 


OF  GHOSTS  AND  GOBLINS. 


645 


bis  tongue  pulled  out  by  a devil,  — slowly,  witb  ar- 
tistic jerks ; it  was  already  longer  than  the  owner’s 
body.  Another  devil  was  pounding  another  Soul  in 
a mortar  so  vigorously  that  the  sound  of  the  braying 
could  be  beard  above  all  the  din  of  the  machinery. 
A little  farther  on  was  a man  being  eaten  alive  by 
two  serpents  having  women’s  faces  ; one  serpent  was 
white,  the  other  blue.  The  white  bad  been  his  wife, 
the  blue  bis  concubine.  All  the  tortures  known  to 
medicEval  Japan  were  being  elsewhere  deftly  prac- 
ticed by  swarms  of  devils.  After  reviewing  them, 
we  visited  the  Sai-no-Kawara,  and  saw  Jizb  witb  a 
child  in  his  arms,  and  a circle  of  other  children  run- 
ning swiftly  around  him,  to  escape  from  demons  who 
brandished  their  clubs  and  ground  their  teeth. 

Hell  proved,  however,  to  be  extremely  cold ; and 
while  meditating  on  the  partial  inappropriateness  of 
the  atmosphere,  it  occurred  to  me  that  in  the  com- 
mon Buddhist  picture-books  of  the  Jigoku  I had 
never  noticed  any  illustrations  of  torment  by  cold. 
Indian  Buddhism,  indeed,  teaches  the  existence  of 
cold  hells.  There  is  one,  for  instance,  where  people’s 
lips  are  frozen  so  that  they  can  say  only  “ Ah-ta-ta  I ” 
— wherefore  that  hell  is  called  Atata.  And  there  is 
the  hell  where  tongues  are  frozen,  and  where  people 
say  only  “ Ah-baba  I ” for  which  reason  it  is  called 
Ababa.  And  there  is  the  Pundarika,  or  Great 
White-Lotus  hell,  where  the  spectacle  of  the  bones 
laid  bare  by  the  cold  is  “like  a blossoming  of  white 
lotus-flowers.”  Kinjuro  thinks  there  are  cold  hells 
according  to  Japanese  Buddhism  ; but  he  is  not  sure. 
And  I am  not  sure  that  the  idea  of  cold  could  be 
made  very  terrible  to  the  Japanese.  They  confess  a 
general  liking  for  cold,  and  compose  Chinese  poems 
about  the  loveliness  of  ice  and  snow. 


646  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


V. 

Out  of  hell,  we  found  our  way  to  a magic-lantern 
show  being  given  in  a larger  and  even  much  colder 
structure.  A Japanese  magic-lantern  show  is  nearly 
always  interesting  in  more  particulars  than  one,  but 
pei’haps  especially  as  evidencing  the  native  genius 
for  adapting  Western  inventions  to  Eastern  tastes. 
A Japanese  magic-lantern  show  is  essentially  dra- 
matic. It  is  a play  of  which  the  dialogue  is  uttered 
bj'  invisible  personages,  the  actors  and  the  scenery 
being  only  luminous  shadows.  Wherefore  it  is  pecul- 
iarly well  suited  to  goblinries  and  weirdnesses  of  all 
kinds;  and  plays  in  which  ghosts  figure  are  the  favor- 
ite subjects.  As  the  hall  was  bitterly  cold,  I waited 
only  long  enough  to  see  one  performance,  — of  which 
the  following  is  an  epitome  : — 

Scene  I.  — A beautiful  peasant  girl  and  her  aged 
mother,  squatting  together  at  home.  Mother  weeps 
violentl}\  gesticulates  agonizingl3\  From  her  frantic 
speech,  broken  b}^  wild  sobs,  we  learn  that  the  girl 
must  be  sent  as  a victim  to  the  Kami-Sama  of  some 
lonesome  temple  in  the  mountains.  That  god  is  a 
bad  god.  Once  a year  he  shoots  an  arrow  into  the 
thatch  of  some  farmer’s  house  as  a sign  that  he 
wants  a girl  — to  eat ! Unless  the  girl  be  sent  to  him 
at  once,  he  destro)’S  the  crops  and  the  cows.  Exit 
mother,  weeping  and  shrieking,  and  pulling  out  her 
gray  hair.  Exit  girl,  with  downcast  head,  and  air  of 
sweet  resignation. 

Scene  II.  — Before  a wayside  inn  ; cherry-trees 
in  blossom.  Enter  coolies  carrying,  like  a palanquin. 


OF  GHOSTS  AND  GOBLINS. 


647 


a large  box,  in  which  the  girl  is  supposed  to  be. 
Deposit  box ; enter  to  eat ; tell  story  to  loquacious 
landlord.  Enter  noble  samurai,  with  two  swords. 
Asks  about  box.  Hears  the  story  of  the  coolies 
repeated  by  loquacious  landlord.  Exhibits  fierce 
indignation ; vows  that  the  Kami-Saina  are  good,  — 
do  not  eat  girls.  Declares  that  so-called  Kami-Sama 
to  be  a devil.  Observes  that  devils  must  be  killed. 
Orders  box  opened.  Sends  girl  home.  Gets  into 
box  himself,  and  commands  coolies  under  pain  of 
death  to  bear  him  right  quickly  to  that  temple. 

Scene  III.  — Enter  coolies,  approaching  temple 
through  forest  at  night.  Coolies  afraid.  Drop  box 
and  run.  Exeunt  coolies.  Box  alone  in  the  dark. 
Enter  veiled  figure,  all  white.  Figure  moans  un- 
pleasantly ; utters  horrid  cries.  Box  remains  impas- 
sive. Figure  removes  veil,  showing  Its  face,  — a skull 
with  phosphoric  eyes.  \^Audience  unanimously  utter 
the  sound  Aaaaaa  ! ”]  Figure  displays  Its  hands,  — 
monstrous  and  apish,  with  claws.  \^Audience  utter  a 
second  “Aaaaaa/”]  Figure  approaches  the  box, 
touches  the  box,  opens  the  box!  Up  leaps  noble 
samurai.  A wrestle  ; drums  sound  the  roll  of  battle. 
Noble  samurai  practices  successfully  noble  art  of 
jiujutsu.  Casts  demon  down,  tramples  upon  him 
triumphantly,  cuts  off  his  head.  Head  suddenly 
enlarges,  grows  to  the  size  of  a house,  tries  to  bite 
off  head  of  samurai.  Samurai  slashes  it  with  his 
sword.  Head  rolls  backward,  spitting  fire,  and  van- 
ishes. Finis.  Exeunt  omnes. 


VOL.  n. 


648  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


VI. 

The  vision  of  the  samurai  and  the  goblin  re- 
minded Kinjuro  of  a queer  tale,  which  he  began  to 
tell  me  as  soon  as  the  shadow-play  was  over.  Ghastly 
stories  are  apt  to  fall  flat  after  such  an  exhibition  ; 
but  Kinjuro's  stories  are  always  peculiar  enough  to 
justify  the  telling  under  almost  any  circumstances. 
Wherefore  I listened  eagerly,  in  spite  of  the  cold  : — 

“A  long  time  ago,  in  the  days  when  Fox-women 
and  goblins  haunted  this  land,  there  came  to  the 
capital  with  her  parents  a samurai  girl,  so  beautiful 
that  all  men  who  saw  her  fell  enamored  of  her. 
And  hundreds  of  young  samurai  desired  and  hoped 
to  marry  her,  and  made  their  desire  known  to  her 
parents.  For  it  has  ever  been  the  custom  in  Japan 
that  marriages  should  be  arranged  by  parents.  But 
there  are  exceptions  to  all  customs,  and  the  case 
of  this  maiden  was  such  an  exception.  Her  parents 
declaimed  that  they  intended  to  allow  their  daughter 
to  choose  her  own  husband,  and  that  all  who  wished 
to  win  her  would  be  free  to  woo  her. 

“ Many  men  of  high  rank  and  of  great  wealth 
were  admitted  to  the  house  as  suitors ; and  each  one 
courted  her  as  he  best  knew  how,  — with  gifts,  and 
with  fair  words,  and  with  poems  written  in  her 
honor,  and  with  promises  of  eternal  love.  And  to 
each  one  she  spoke  sweetly  and  hopefully ; but  she 
made  strange  conditions.  For  every  suitor  she 
obliged  to  bind  himself  by  his  word  of  honor  as  a 
samurai  to  submit  to  a test  of  his  love  for  her,  and 
never  to  divulge  to  living  person  what  that  test  might 
be.  And  to  this  all  agreed. 


OF  GHOSTS  A HD  GOBLINS. 


649 


“ But  even  tbe  most  confident  suitors  suddenly 
ceased  their  importunities  after  having  been  put  to 
the  test ; and  all  of  them  appeared  to  have  been 
greatly  terrified  by  something.  Indeed,  not  a few 
even  fled  away  from  tlie  city,  and  could  not  be  pei’- 
suaded  by  their  friends  to  return.  But  no  one  ever 
so  much  as  hinted  why.  Therefore  it  was  whispered 
by  those  who  knew  nothing  of  the  mystery,  that 
the  beautiful  girl  must  be  either  a Fox-woman  or  a 
goblin. 

“Now,  when  all  the  wooers  of  high  rank  had 
abandoned  their  suit,  there  came  a samurai  who  had 
no  wealth  but  his  sword.  He  was  a good  man  and 
true,  and  of  pleasing  presence ; and  the  girl  seemed 
to  like  him.  But  she  made  him  take  the  same  pledge 
which  the  others  had  taken  ; and  after  he  had  taken  it, 
she  told  him  to  return  upon  a certain  evening. 

“ When  that  evening  came,  he  was  received  at  the 
house  by  none  but  the  girl  herself.  With  her  own 
hands  she  set  before  him  the  repast  of  hospitality, 
and  waited  upon  him,  after  which  she  told  him  that 
she  wished  him  to  go  out  with  her  at  a late  hour. 
To  this  he  consented  gladly,  and  inquired  to  what 
place  she  desired  to  go.  But  she  replied  nothing 
to  his  question,  and  all  at  once  became  very  silent, 
and  strange  in  her  manner.  And  after  a while  she 
retired  from  the  apartment,  leaving  him  alone. 

“ Only  long  after  midnight  she  returned,  robed  all 
in  white, — like  a Soul,  — and,  without  uttering  a 
word,  signed  to  him  to  follow  her.  Out  of  the  house 
they  hastened  while  all  the  city  slept.  It  was  what 
is  called  an  oborozuki-yo  — ‘ moon-clouded  night.’ 
Always  upon  such  a night,  ’tis  said,  do  ghosts  wander. 
She  swiftly  led  the  way ; and  the  dogs  howled  as  she 


650  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


flitted  by  ; and  she  passed  beyond  the  confines  of  the 
city  to  a place  of  knolls  shadowed  by  enormous  trees, 
where  an  ancient  cemetery  was.  Into  it  she  glided, 
— a white  shadow  into  blackness.  He  followed,  won- 
dering, his  hand  upon  his  sword.  Then  his  eyes 
became  accustomed  to  the  gloom  ; and  he  saw. 

“ By  a new-made  grave  she  paused  and  signed  to 
him  to  wait.  The  tools  of  the  grave-maker  were  still 
lying  there.  Seizing  one,  she  began  to  dig  furiously, 
with  strange  haste  and  strength.  At  last  her  spade 
smote  a coffin-lid  and  made  it  boom:  another  moment 
and  the  fresh  white  wood  of  the  kwan  was  bare. 
She  tore  off  the  lid,  revealing  a corpse  within,  — the 
corpse  of  a child.  With  goblin  gestures  she  wrung 
an  arm  from  the  body,  wrenched  it  in  twain,  and, 
squatting  down,  began  to  devour  the  upper  half. 
Then,  flinging  to  her  lover  the  other  half,  she  cried 
to  him,  ‘ Eat.,  if  thou  lovest  me  ! this  is  what  I eat  I ' 

“ Not  even  for  a single  instant  did  he  hesitate.  He 
squatted  down  upon  the  other  side  of  the  grave,  and 
ate  the  half  of  the  arm,  and  said,  ‘ Kekko  degozari- 
masu  ! mo  sukoshi  chodai.'  ^ For  that  arm  was  made 
of  the  best  kwashi  ^ that  Saikyo  could  produce. 

“ Then  the  girl  sprang  to  her  feet  with  a burst  of 
laughter,  and  cried:  ‘ You  only,  of  all  my  brave  suit- 
ors, did  not  run  away  ! And  I wanted  a husband  who 
could  not  fear.  I will  marry  you ; I can  love  you  : 
you  are  a man  ! ’ ” 


VII. 

“ O Kinjuro,”  I said,  as  we  took  our  way  home, 
“ I have  heard  and  I have  read  many  Japanese  stories 

^ “It  is  excellent : I pray  you  give  me  a little  more.” 

2 Kivashi : Japanese  confectionery. 


OF  GHOSTS  AND  GOBLINS. 


651 


of  the  returning  of  the  dead.  Likewise  you  yourself 
have  told  me  it  is  still  believed  the  dead  return,  and 
why.  But  according  both  to  that  which  I have  read 
and  that  which  you  have  told  me,  the  coming  back  of 
the  dead  is  never  a thing  to  be  desired.  They  return 
because  of  hate,  or  because  of  envy,  or  because  they 
cannot  rest  for  sorrow.  But  of  any  who  return  for 
that  wliich  is  not  evil  — where  is  it  written?  Surely 
the  common  history  of  them  is  like  that  which  we 
have  this  night  seen  : much  that  is  horrible  and  much 
that  is  wicked  and  nothing  of  that  which  is  beautiful 
or  true.” 

Now  this  I said  that  I might  tempt  liim.  And  he 
maile  even  the  answer  I desired,  by  uttering  the  story 
which  is  hereafter  set  down  : — 

“ Long  ago,  in  the  days  of  a daimyo  whose  name 
has  been  forgotten,  there  lived  in  this  old  city  a 
young  man  and  a maid  who  loved  each  other  very 
much.  Their  names  are  not  remembered,  but  their 
story  remains.  From  infancy  they  had  been  be- 
trothed ; and  as  children  they  played  together,  for 
their  parents  were  neighbors  And  as  they  grew  up, 
they  became  always  fonder  of  each  other. 

“ Before  the  youth  liad  become  a man,  his  parents 
died.  But  he  was  able  to  enter  the  service  of  a rich 
samurai,  an  officer  of  high  rank,  who  had  been  a 
friend  of  his  people.  And  his  protector  soon  took 
him  into  great  favor,  seeing  him  to  be  courteous,  in- 
telligent. and  apt  at  arms.  So  the  young  man  hoped 
to  find  himself  shortly  in  a position  that  would  make 
it  possible  for  him  to  marry  his  betrothed.  But  war 
broke  out  in  the  north  and  east;  and  he  was  sum- 
moned suddenly  to  follow  his  master  to  the  field. 


652  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


Before  departing,  however,  he  was  able  to  see  the 
girl ; and  they  exchanged  pledges  in  the  presence  of 
her  parents  ; and  he  promised,  should  he  remain  alive, 
to  return  within  a year  from  that  day  to  marry  his 
betrothed. 

“ After  his  going  much  time  passed  without  news 
of  him,  for  there  was  no  post  in  that  time  as  now ; 
and  the  girl  grieved  so  much  for  thinking  of  the 
chances  of  war  that  she  became  all  white  and  thin 
and  weak.  Then  at  last  she  heard  of  him  through  a 
messenger  sent  from  the  army  to  bear  news  to  the 
daimyo,  and  once  again  a letter  was  brought  to  her 
by  another  messenger.  And  thereafter  there  came 
no  word.  Long  is  a year  to  one  who  waits.  And 
the  year  passed,  and  he  did  not  return. 

“ Other  seasons  passed,  and  still  he  did  not  come ; 
and  she  thought  him  dead  ; and  she  sickened  and  lay 
down,  and  died,  and  was  bui’ied.  Then  her  old  par- 
ents, who  had  no  other  child,  grieved  unspeakably, 
and  came  to  hate  their  home  for  the  lonesomeness  of 
it.  After  a time  they  resolved  to  sell  all  they  had, 
and  to  set  out  upon  a seugaji,  — the  great  pilgrim- 
age to  the  Thousand  Temples  of  the  Nichiren-Shu, 
which  requires  many  years  to  perform.  So  they  sold 
their  small  house  with  all  that  it  contained,  except- 
ing the  ancestral  tablets,  and  the  holy  things  which 
must  never  be  sold,  and  the  ihai  of  their  buried 
daughter,  which  were  placed,  according  to  the  cus- 
tom of  those  about  to  leave  their  native  place,  in  the 
family  temple.  Now  the  family  was  of  the  Nichiren- 
Shu  ; and  their  temple  was  Myokdji. 

“ They  had  been  gone  only  four  days  when  the 
young  man  who  had  been  betrothed  to  their  daugh- 
ter returned  to  the  city.  He  had  attempted,  with 


OF  GHOSTS  AND  GOBLINS. 


653 


the  permission  of  his  mastei’,  to  fulfill  his  promise. 
But  the  provinces  upon  his  way  were  full  of  war, 
and  the  roads  and  passes  wei-e  guarded  by  troops, 
and  he  had  been  long  delayed  by  many  difficulties. 
And  when  he  heard  of  his  misfortune  he  sickened 
for  grief,  and  many  days  remained  without  know- 
ledge of  anything,  like  one  about  to  die. 

“ But  when  he  began  to  recover  his  strength,  all 
the  pain  of  memory  came  back  again ; and  he  re- 
gretted that  he  had  not  died.  Then  he  resolved  to 
kill  himself  upon  the  grave  of  his  betrothed ; and,  as 
soon  as  he  was  able  to  go  out  unobserved,  he  took 
his  swoi'd  and  went  to  the  cemetery  where  the  girl 
was  buried  : it  is  a lonesome  place,  — the  cemetery 
of  Myokoji.  There  he  found  her  tomb,  and  knelt 
before  it,  and  prayed  and  wept,  and  whispered  to  her 
that  which  he  was  about  to  do.  And  suddenly  he 
heard  her  voice  cry  to  him  : ‘ Anata  ! ’ and  felt  her 
hand  upon  his  hand  ; and  he  turned,  and  saw  her 
kneeling  beside  him,  smiling,  and  beautiful  as  he 
remembered  her,  only  a little  pale.  Then  his  heart 
leaped  so  that  he  could  not  speak  for  the  wonder 
and  the  doubt  and  the  joy  of  that  moment.  But  she 
said  : ‘Do  not  doubt : it  is  really  I.  I am  not  dead. 
It  was  all  a mistake.  I was  buried,  because  my 
people  thought  me  dead,  — buried  too  soon.  And  my 
own  parents  thought  me  dead,  and  went  upon  a pil- 
grimage. Yet  you  see  I am  not  dead,  — not  a ghost. 
It  is  I : do  not  doubt  it ! And  I have  seen  your 
heart,  and  that  was  worth  all  the  waitincr  and  the 
|)ain.  . . . But  now  let  us  go  away  at  once  to  another 
city,  so  that  people  may  not  know  this  thing  and 
trouble  us ; for  all  still  believe  me  dead.’ 

“ And  they  went  away,  no  one  observing  them. 


654  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


And  they  went  even  to  the  village  of  Minobu,  which 
is  in  the  province  of  Kai.  For  there  is  a famous 
temple  of  the  Nichiren-Sbu  in  that  place;  and  the 
girl  had  said  : ‘ I know  that  in  the  course  of  their 
pilgrimage  my  parents  will  surely  visit  Minobu  : so 
that  if  we  dwell  there,  they  will  find  us,  and  we 
shall  be  all  again  together.’  And  when  they  came 
to  Minobu,  she  said : ‘ Let  us  open  a little  shop.’ 
And  they  opened  a little  food-shop,  on  the  wide  way 
leading  to  the  holy  place  ; and  there  they  sold  cakes 
for  children,  and  toys,  and  food  for  pilgrims.  For 
two  years  they  so  lived  and  prospered ; and  there 
was  a son  born  to  them. 

“Now  when  the  child  was  a year  and  two  months 
old,  the  parents  of  the  wife  came  in  the  course  of 
their  pilgrimage  to  Minobu ; and  they  stopped  at  the 
little  shop  to  buy  food.  And  seeing  their  daughter’s 
betrothed,  they  cried  out  and  wept  and  asked  ques- 
tions. Then  he  made  them  enter,  and  bowed  down 
before  them,  and  astonished  them,  saying:  ‘ Truly  as 
I speak  it,  your  daughter  is  not  dead ; and  she  is  my 
wife;  and  we  have  a son.  And  she  is  even  now 
within  the  farther  room,  lying  down  with  the  child. 
I pray  you  go  in  at  once  and  gladden  her,  for  her 
heart  longs  for  the  moment  of  seeing  you  again.’ 

“ So  while  he  busied  himself  in  making  all  things 
ready  for  their  comfort,  the}'  entered  the  inner  room 
very  softly,  — the  mother  first. 

“ They  found  the  child  asleep ; but  the  mother 
they  did  not  find.  She  seemed  to  have  gone  out  for 
a little  while  only  : her  pillow  was  still  warm.  They 
waited  long  for  her : then  they  began  to  seek  her. 
But  never  was  she  seen  again. 

“ And  they  understood  only  when  they  found, 


OF  GHOSTS  AND  GOBLINS. 


655 


beneath  the  coverings  which  had  covered  the  mother 
and  child,  something  which  they  remembered  hav- 
ing left  years  before  in  the  temple  of  Myokoji,  — 
a little  mortuary  tablet,  — the  ihai  of  their  buried 
daughter.” 

I suppose  I must  have  looked  thoughtful  after  this 
tale  ; for  the  old  man  said  : — 

“ Perhaps  the  Master  honorably  thinks  concerning 
the  story  that  it  is  foolish  ? ” 

“ Nay,  Kin juro,  the  story  is  in  my  heart.” 


XXVI 


THE  JAPANESE  SMILE. 

I. 

Those  whose  ideas  of  the  world  and  its  wonders 
have  been  formed  chiefly  by  novels  and  romance  still 
indulge  a vague  belief  that  the  East  is  more  serious 
than  the  AVest.  Those  who  judge  things  from  a 
higher  standpoint  argue,  on  the  contrary,  that,  under 
present  conditions,  the  West  must  be  more  serious 
than  the  East ; and  also  that  gravity,  or  even  some- 
thing resembling  its  converse,  may  exist  only  as  a 
fashion.  But  the  fact  is  that  in  this,  as  in  all  other 
questions,  no  rule  susceptible  of  application  to  either 
half  of  humanity  can  be  accurately  framed.  Scientifi- 
cally, we  can  do  no  more  just  now  than  study  certain 
contrasts  in  a general  way,  without  hoping  to  explain 
satisfactorily  the  highly  complex  causes  which  pro- 
duced them.  One  such  contrast,  of  particular  inter- 
est, is  that  afforded  by  the  English  and  the  Japanese. 

It  is  a commonplace  to  say  that  the  English  are  a 
serious  people,  — not  superficially  serious,  but  serious 
all  the  way  down  to  the  bed-rock  of  the  race  charac- 
ter. It  is  almost  equally  safe  to  say  that  the  Japa- 
nese are  not  very  serious,  either  above  or  below  the 
surface,  even  as  compared  with  races  much  less  seri- 
ous than  our  own.  And  in  the  same  proportion,  at 
least,  that  they  are  less  serious,  they  ai’e  moi'e  happy  : 
they  still,  perhaps,  remain  the  happiest  people  in  the 
civilized  world.  We  serious  folk  of  the  West  cannot 
call  ourselves  very  happy.  Indeed,  we  do  not  yet 


THE  JAPANESE  SMILE. 


657 


fully  know  how  serious  we  are  ; and  it  would  prob- 
ably frighten  us  to  learn  how  much  more  serious  we 
are  likely  to  become  under  the  ever-swelling  pressure 
of  industrial  life.  It  is,  possibly,  by  long  sojourn 
among  a people  less  gravely  disposed  that  we  can 
best  learn  our  own  temperament.  This  conviction 
came  to  me  very  strongly  when,  after  having  lived 
for  nearly  three  years  in  the  interior  of  Japan,  I re- 
turned to  English  life  for  a few  days  at  the  open 
port  of  Kobe.  To  hear  English  once  more  spoken 
by  Englishmen  touched  me  more  than  I could  have 
believed  possible  ; but  this  feeling  lasted  only  for  a 
moment.  i\Iy  object  was  to  make  some  necessai’y 
purchases.  Accompanying  me  was  a Japanese  friend, 
to  whom  all  that  foreign  life  was  utterly  new  and 
wonderful,  and  who  asked  me  this  curious  question : 
“ Why  is  it  that  the  foreigners  never  smile  ? You 
smile  and  bow  when  you  speak  to  them ; but  they 
never  smile.  Why  ? ” 

The  fact  was,  I had  fallen  altogether  into  Japanese 
habits  and  ways,  and  had  got  out  of  touch  with  West- 
ern life ; and  my  companion’s  question  first  made  me 
aware  that  I had  been  acting  somewhat  curiously.  It 
also  seemed  to  me  a fair  illustration  of  the  difficulty 
of  mutual  comprehension  between  the  two  races,  — 
each  quite  naturally,  though  quite  erroneously,  esti- 
mating the  manners  and  motives  of  the  other  by  its 
own.  If  the  Japanese  are  puzzled  by  English  gravity, 
the  English  are,  to  say  the  least,  equally  puzzled  by 
Japanese  levity.  The  Japanese  speak  of  the  “angry 
faces”  of  the  foreigners.  The  foreigners  speak  with 
strong  contempt  of  the  Japanese  smile  : they  suspect 
it  to  signify  insincerity  ; indeed,  some  declare  it  can- 
not possibly  signify  anything  else.  Only  a few  of 


658  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


the  more  observant  liave  recognized  it  as  an  enigma 
worth  studying.  One  of  my  Yokohama  friends  — a 
thoroughly  lovable  man,  who  had  passed  more  than 
half  Ills  life  in  the  open  ports  of  the  East  — said  to 
me,  just  before  my  departure  for  the  interior : “ Since 
you  are  going  to  study  Japanese  life,  perhaps  you 
will  be  able  to  find  out  something  for  me.  I can't  un- 
derstand the  Japanese  smile.  Let  me  tell  you  one 
experience  out  of  many.  Qiie  day,  as  I was  driving 
down  from  the  Bluff,  I saw  an  empty  kuruma  coming 
up  on  the  wrong  side  of  the  curve.  I could  not  have 
pulled  up  in  time  if  I had  tried  ; but  I did  n’t  tr}',  be- 
cause I did  n’t  think  there  was  anj'  particular  danger. 
I only  yelled  to  the  man  in  Japanese  to  get  to  the 
other  side  of  the  road  ; instead  of  which  he  simply 
backed  his  kuruma  against  a wall  on  the  lower  side 
of  the  curve,  with  the  shafts  outwards.  At  the  rate 
I was  going,  there  wasn’t  room  even  to  swerve;  and 
the  next  minute  one  of  the  shafts  of  that  kuruma  was 
in  my  horse’s  shoulder.  The  man  wasn’t  hurt  at  all. 
When  I saw  the  way  my  horse  was  bleeding,  I quite 
lost  my  temper,  and  struck  the  man  over  the  head 
with  the  butt  of  my  whip.  He  looked  right  into  my 
face  and  smiled,  and  then  bowed.  I can  see  that 
smile  now.  I felt  as  if  I had  been  knocked  down. 
The  smile  utterly  nonplused  me,  — killed  all  my 
anger  instantly.  Mind  you,  it  was  a polite  smile. 
But  what  did  it  mean  ? Why  the  devil  did  the  man 
smile?  I can’t  understand  it.” 

Neither,  at  that  time,  could  I ; but  the  meaning  of 
much  more  mysterious  smiles  has  since  been  revealed 
to  me.  A Japanese  can  smile  in  the  teeth  of  death, 
and  usually  does.  But  he  then  smiles  for  the  same 
reason  that  he  smiles  at  other  times.  There  is  nei- 


TJIE  JAPANESE  SMILE. 


659 


ther  defiance  nor  hypocrisy  in  the  smile  ; nor  is  it  to 
be  confounded  with  that  smile  of  sickly  resignation 
which  we  are  apt  to  associate  with  weakness  of 
character.  It  is  an  elaborate  and  long-cultivated  eti- 
quette. It  is  also  a silent  language.  But  any  effort 
to  interpret  it  according  to  Western  notions  of  phy- 
siognomical expression  would  be  just  about  as  success- 
ful as  an  attempt  to  interpret  Chinese  ideographs  by 
their  real  or  fancied  resemblance  to  shapes  of  familiar 
things. 

First  impressions,  being  largely  instinctive,  are 
scientifically  recognized  as  partly  trustworthy ; and 
the  very  first  impression  produced  by  the  Japanese 
smile  is  not  far  from  the  truth.  The  stranger  cannot 
fail  to  notice  the  generally  happy  and  smiling  charac- 
ter of  the  native  faces;  and  this  first  impression  is, 
in  most  cases,  wonderfully  pleasant.  The  Japanese 
smile  at  first  charms.  It  is  only  at  a later  day,  when 
one  has  observed  the  same  smile  under  extraordinary 
circumstances,  — in  moments  of  pain,  shame,  disap- 
pointment,— that  one  becomes  suspicious  of  it.  Its 
apparent  inopportuneness  may  even,  on  certain  oc- 
casions, cause  violent  anger.  Indeed,  man}'  of  the 
difficulties  between  foreign  residents  and  their  native 
servants  have  been  due  to  the  smile.  Any  man  who 
believes  in  the  British  tradition  that  a fjood  servant 
must  be  solemn  is  not  likely  to  endure  with  patience 
the  smile  of  his  “ boy.”  At  present,  however,  this 
particular  phase  of  Western  eccentricity  is  becoming 
more  fully  recognized  by  the  Japanese  ; they  are 
beginning  to  learn  that  the  average  English-speak- 
ing foreigner  hates  smiling,  and  is  apt  to  consider  it 
insulting  ; wherefore  Japanese  employees  at  the  open 
ports  have  generally  ceased  to  smile,  and  have  as- 
sumed an  air  of  sullenness. 


GGO  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


At  this  moment  there  comes  to  me  the  recollection 
of  a queer  story  told  by  a lady  of  Yokohama  about 
one  of  her  Japanese  servants.  “ My  Japanese  nurse 
came  to  me  the  other  day,  smiling  as  if  something 
very  pleasant  had  happened,  and  said  that  her  hus- 
band was  dead,  and  that  she  wanted  permission  to 
attend  his  funeral.  I told  her  she  could  go.  It  seems 
they  burned  the  man’s  body.  Well,  in  the  evening 
she  returned,  and  showed  me  a vase  containing  some 
ashes  of  bones  (I  saw  a tooth  among  them)  •,  and 
she  said:  ‘That  is  my  husband.’  And  she  actually 
laughed  as  she  said  it ! Did  you  ever  hear  of  such 
disgusting  creatures  ? ” 

It  would  have  been  quite  impossible  to  convince 
the  narrator  of  this  incident  that  the  demeanor  of  her 
servant,  instead  of  being  heartless,  might  have  been 
heroic,  and  capable  of  a very  touching  interpretation. 
Even  one  not  a Philistine  might  be  deceived  in  such 
a case  by  appearances.  But  quite  a number  of  the 
foreign  residents  of  the  open  ports  are  pure  Philis- 
tines, and  never  try  to  look  below  the  surface  of  the 
life  around  them,  except  as  hostile  critics.  My  Yoko- 
hama friend  who  told  me  the  story  about  the  kuru- 
maya  was  quite  differently  disposed : he  recognized 
the  error  of  judging  by  appearances. 


II. 

Miscomprehension  of  the  Japanese  smile  has  more 
than  once  led  to  extremely  unpleasant  results,  as  hap- 
pened in  the  case  of  T , a Yokohama  merchant  of 

former  days.  T liad  employed  in  some  capacity 

(I  think  partly  as  a teacher  of  Japanese)  a nice  old 
samurai,  who  wore,  according  to  the  fashion  of  the 
era,  a queue  and  two  swords.  The  English  and  the 


THE  JAPANESE  SMILE. 


GGl 


Japanese  do  not  understand  each  other  very  well 
now ; but  at  the  period  in  question  they  understood 
each  other  much  less.  The  Japanese  servants  at  first 
acted  in  foreign  employ  precisely  as  they  would  have 
acted  in  the  service  of  distinguished  Japanese  ; ^ and 
this  innocent  mistake  provoked  a good  deal  of  abuse 
and  cruelty.  Finally  the  discovery  was  made  that 
to  treat  Japanese  like  West  Indian  negroes  might 
be  very  dangerous.  A certain  number  of  foreigners 
were  killed,  with  good  moral  consequences. 

But  I am  digressing.  T was  rather  pleased 

with  his  old  samurai,  though  quite  unable  to  under- 
stand his  Oriental  politeness,  his  prostrations,  or  the 
meaning  of  the  small  gifts  which  he  presented  occa- 
sionally, with  an  exquisite  courtesy  entirely  wasted 

upon  T . One  day  he  came  to  ask  a favor.  (I 

think  it  was  the  eve  of  the  Japanese  New  Year,  when 
everybody  needs  money,  for  reasons  not  here  to  be 

dwelt  upon.)  The  favor  was  that  T would  lend 

him  a little  money  upon  one  of  his  swords,  the  long 

1 The  reader  will  find  it  well  worth  his  while  to  consult  the  chap- 
ter entitled  “ Domestic  Service,”  iu  Miss  Bacon’s  Japanese  Girls  and 
Women,  for  an  interesting  and  just  presentation  of  the  practical  side 
of  the  subject,  as  relating  to  servants  of  both  sexes.  The  poetical 
side,  however,  is  not  treated  of, — perhaps  because  intimately  con- 
nected with  religious  beliefs  which  one  writing  from  the  Christian 
standpoint  could  not  be  expected  to  consider  sympathetically.  Domes- 
tic service  in  ancient  .Japan  was  both  transfigured  and  regulated  by 
religion  ; and  the  force  of  the  religions  sentiment  concerning  it  may 
be  divined  from  the  Buddhist  saying,  still  current : — 

Oya-ko  wa  is-se^ 

Fufu  wa  ni-se, 

ShujU  wa  sanse. 

The  relation  of  parent  and  child  endures  for  the  space  of  one  life 
only;  that  of  husband  and  wife  for  the  space  of  two  lives;  but  the 
relation  between  master  and  servant  continues  for  the  period  of  three 
existences. 


662  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


one.  It  was  a very  beautiful  weapon,  and  the  mer- 
chant saw  that  it  was  also  very  valuable,  and  lent 
the  money  without  hesitation.  Some  weeks  later  the 
old  man  was  able  to  redeem  his  sword. 

What  caused  the  beginning  of  the  subsequent 
unpleasantness  nobody  now  remembers.  Perhaps 

T ’s  nerves  got  out  of  order.  At  all  events,  one 

day  he  became  very  angry  with  the  old  man,  who 
submitted  to  the  expression  of  his  wrath  with  bows 
and  smiles.  This  made  him  still  more  angry,  and  he 
used  some  extremely  bad  language ; but  the  old  man 
still  bowed  and  smiled  ; wherefore  he  was  ordered  to 
leave  the  house.  But  the  old  man  continued  to  smile, 

at  which  T , losing  all  self-control,  struck  him. 

And  then  T suddenly  became  afraid,  for  the  long 

sword  instantly  leaped  from  its  sheath,  and  swirled 
above  him ; and  the  old  man  ceased  to  seem  old. 
Now,  in  the  grasp  of  any  one  who  knows  how  to  use 
it,  the  razor-edged  blade  of  a Japanese  sword  wielded 
with  both  hands  can  take  a head  off  with  extreme 
facility.  But,  to  T ’s  astonishment,  the  old  samu- 

rai, almost  in  the  same  moment,  returned  the  blade 
to  its  sheath  with  the  skill  of  a practiced  swordsman, 
turned  upon  his  heel,  and  withdrew. 

Then  T wondered,  and  sat  down  to  think. 

He  began  to  remember  some  nice  things  about  the 
old  man,  — the  many  kindnesses  unasked  and  unpaid, 

the  curious  little  gifts,  the  impeccable  honesty.  T 

began  to  feel  ashamed.  He  tried  to  console  himself 
with  the  thought : “ Well,  it  was  his  own  fault ; he  had 
no  right  to  laugh  at  me  when  he  knew  I was  angry.” 

Indeed,  T even  resolved  to  make  amends  when 

an  opportunity  should  offer. 

But  no  opportunity  ever  came,  because  on  the  same 


THE  JAPANESE  SMILE. 


663 


evening  the  old  man  performed  hara-kiri,  after  the 
manner  of  a samurai.  He  left  a very  beautifully 
written  letter  explaining  his  reasons.  For  a samurai 
to  receive  an  unjust  blow  without  avenging  it  was  a 
shame  not  to  be  borne.  He  had  received  such  a blow. 
Under  any  other  circumstances  he  might  have  avenged 
it.  But  the  circumstances  were,  in  this  instance, 
of  a very  peculiar  kind.  His  code  of  honor  forbade 
him  to  use  his  sword  upon  the  man  to  whom  he  had 
pledged  it  once  for  money,  in  an  hour  of  need.  And 
being  thus  unable  to  use  his  sword,  there  remained 
for  him  only  the  alternative  of  an  honorable  suicide. 

In  order  to  render  this  story  less  disagreeable,  the 

reader  may  suppose  that  T was  really  vei’y  sorry, 

and  behaved  generously  to  the  family  of  the  old 

man.  What  he  must  not  suppose  is  that  T was 

ever  able  to  imagine  why  the  old  man  had  smiled  the 
smile  which  led  to  the  outrage  and  the  tragedy. 


in. 

To  comprehend  the  Japanese  smile,  one  must  be 
able  to  enter  a little  into  the  ancient,  natural,  and 
popular  life  of  Japan.  From  the  modernized  upper 
classes  nothing  is  to  be  learned.  The  deeper  signifi- 
cation of  race  differences  is  being  daily  more  and 
more  illustrated  in  the  effects  of  the  higher  education. 
Instead  of  creating  any  community  of  feeling,  it  ap- 
pears only  to  widen  the  distance  between  the  Occi- 
dental and  the  Oriental.  Some  foreign  observers 
have  declared  that  it  does  this  by  enormously  devel- 
oping certain  latent  peculiarities,  — among  others  an 
inherent  materialism  little  perceptible  among  the 
common  people.  This  explanation  is  one  I cannot 
quite  agree  with  ; but  it  is  at  least  undeniable  that, 

VOL.  II. 


664  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


the  more  highly  he  is  cultivated,  according  to  West- 
ern methods,  the  farther  is  the  Japanese  psychologi- 
cally removed  from  us.  Under  the  new  education, 
his  character  seems  to  crystallize  into  something  of 
singular  hardness,  and  to  Western  observation,  at 
least,  of  singular  opacity.  Emotionally,  the  Japa- 
nese child  appears  incomparably  closer  to  us  than 
the  Japanese  mathematician,  the  [)easant  than  the 
statesman.  Between  the  most  elevated  class  of  thor- 
oughly modernized  Japanese  and  the  Western  thinker 
anything  akin  to  intellectual  sympathy  is  non-exist- 
ent : it  is  replaced  on  the  native  side  by  a cold  and 
faultless  politeness.  Those  influences  which  in  other 
lands  appear  most  potent  to  develop  the  higher  emo- 
tions seem  here  to  have  the  extraordinary  effect  of 
suppressing  them.  We  are  accustomed  abroad  to 
associate  emotional  sensibility  with  intellectual  expan- 
sion : it  would  be  a grievous  error  to  apply  this  rule 
in  Japan.  Even  the  foreign  teacher  in  an  ordinary 
school  can  feel,  year  by  year,  his  pupils  drifting  far- 
ther away  from  him,  as  they  pass  from  class  to  class ; 
in  various  higher  educational  institutions,  the  separa- 
tion widens  yet  more  rapidly,  so  that,  prior  to  gradu- 
ation, students  may  become  to  their  professor  little 
more  than  casual  acquaintances.  The  enigma  is  per- 
haps, to  some  extent,  a physiological  one,  requiring 
scientific  explanation  ; but  its  solution  must  first  be 
sought  in  ancestral  habits  of  life  and  of  imagination. 
It  can  be  fully  discussed  only  when  its  natural  causes 
are  understood  ; and  these,  we  may  be  sure,  are  not 
simple.  By  some  observers  it  is  asserted  that  because 
the  higher  education  in  Japan  has  not  yet  had  the 
effect  of  stimulatinji  the  higher  emotions  to  the  Occi- 
dental  pitch,  its  developing  power  cannot  have  been 


THE  JAPANESE  SMILE. 


665 


exei’ted  uniformly  and  wisely,  but  in  special  direc- 
tions only,  at  the  cost  of  character.  Yet  this  theory 
involves  the  unwarrantable  assumption  that  character 
can  be  created  by  education ; and  it  ignores  the  fact 
that  the  best  results  are  obtained  by  affording  oppor- 
tunity for  the  exei’cise  of  preexisting  inclination  rather 
than  by  any  system  of  teaching. 

The  causes  of  the  phenomenon  must  be  looked 
for  in  the  race  character ; and  whatever  the  higher 
education  may  accomplish  in  the  remote  future,  it 
can  scarcely  be  expected  to  transform  nature.  But 
does  it  at  present  atrophy  certain  finer  tendencies  ? 
I think  that  it  unavoidably  does,  for  the  simple  rea- 
son that,  under  existing  conditions,  tlie  moral  and 
mental  powers  are  overtasked  by  its  requirements. 
All  that  wonderful  national  spirit  of  duty,  of  pa- 
tience, of  self-sacrifice,  anciently  directed  to  social, 
moral,  or  religious  idealism,  must,  under  the  disci- 
pline of  the  higher  training,  be  concentrated  upon  an 
end  which  not  only  demands,  but  exhausts  its  fullest 
exercise.  For  that  end,  to  be  accomplished  at  all, 
must  be  accomplished  in  the  face  of  difficulties  that 
the  Western  student  rarely  encounters,  and  could 
scarcely  be  made  even  to  understand.  All  those 
moral  qualities  which  made  the  old  Japanese  charac- 
ter admirable  are  certainly  the  same  which  make  the 
modern  Japanese  student  the  most  indefatigable,  the 
most  docile,  the  most  ambitious  in  the  world.  But 
they  are  also  qualities  which  urge  him  to  efforts  in 
excess  of  his  natural  powers,  with  the  frequent  result 
of  mental  and  moral  enervation.  The  nation  has  en- 
tered upon  a period  of  intellectual  overstrain.  Con- 
sciously or  unconsciously,  in  obedience  to  sudden 
necessity,  Japan  has  undertaken  nothing  less  than 


666  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


the  tremendous  task  of  forcing  mental  expansion  up 
to  the  highest  existing  standard ; and  this  means 
forcing  the  development  of  the  nervous  system.  For 
the  desired  intellectual  change,  to  be  accomplished 
within  a few  generations,  must  involve  a physiologi- 
cal change  never  to  be  effected  without  terrible  cost. 
In  other  words,  Japan  has  attempted  too  much;  yet 
under  the  circumstances  she  could  not  have  attempted 
less.  Happily,  even  among  the  poorest  of  her  poor 
the  educational  policy  of  tlie  government  is  seconded 
with  an  astonishing  zeal  ; the  entire  nation  has 
plunged  into  study  with  a fervor  of  wliich  it  is  utterly 
impossible  to  convey  any  adequate  conception  in  this 
little  essay.  Yet  I may  cite  a touching  example. 
Immediately  after  the  frightful  earthquake  of  1891, 
the  children  of  the  ruined  cities  of  Gifu  and  Aichi, 
crouching  among  the  ashes  of  their  homes,  cold  and 
hungry  and  shelterless,  surrounded  by  horror  and 
misery  unspeakable,  still  continued  their  small  studies, 
using  tiles  of  their  own  burnt  dwellings  in  lieu  of 
slates,  and  bits  of  lime  for  chalk,  even  while  the  earth 
still  trembled  beneath  them.^  What  future  miracles 
may  justly  be  expected  from  the  amazing  power  of 
purpose  such  a fact  reveals  ! 

But  it  is  true  that  as  yet  the  results  of  the  higher 
training  have  not  been  altogether  happy.  Among 
the  Japanese  of  the  old  regime  one  encounters  a 
courtesy,  an  unselfishness,  a grace  of  pure  goodness, 
impossible  to  overpraise.  Among  the  modernized  of 
the  new  generation  these  have  almost  disappeared. 
One  meets  a class  of  young  men  who  ridicule  the 
old  times  and  the  old  ways  without  having  been 

' The  shocks  continued,  though  with  lessening  frequency  and  vio. 
lence,  for  more  than  six  months  after  the  cataclysm. 


THE  JAPANESE  SMILE. 


667 


able  to  elevate  themselves  above  the  vulgarism  of 
imitation  and  the  commonplaces  of  shallow  skepti- 
cism. What  has  become  of  the  noble  and  charming 
qualities  they  must  have  inherited  from  their  fathers? 
Is  it  not  possible  that  the  best  of  those  qualities 
have  been  transmuted  into  mere  effort,  — an  effort  so 
excessive  as  to  have  exhausted  character,  leaving  it 
without  weight  or  balance? 

It  is  to  the  still  fluid,  mobile,  natural  existence  of 
the  common  people  that  one  must  look  for  the  mean- 
ing of  some  apparent  differences  in  the  race  feeling 
and  emotional  expression  of  the  West  and  the  Far 
Fast.  With  those  gentle,  kindly,  sweet-hearted  folk, 
who  smile  at  life,  love,  and  death  alike,  it  is  possible 
to  enjoy  community  of  feeling  in  simple,  natural 
things;  and  by  familiarity  and  sympathy  w'e  can 
learn  why  they  smile. 

The  Jajianese  child  is  born  with  this  happy  ten- 
dency, which  is  fostered  through  all  the  period  of 
home  education.  But  it  is  cultivated  with  the  same 
exquisiteness  that  is  shown  in  the  cultivation  of  the 
natural  tendencies  of  a gaiden  plant.  The  smile  is 
taught  like  the  bow;  like  tlie  prostration  ; like  that 
little  sibilant  sucking-in  of  the  breath  which  follows, 
as  a token  of  j)leasure,  the  salutation  to  a superior; 
like  all  the  elaboj'ate  and  beautiful  etiquette  of  the 
old  courtesy.  Laughter  is  not  encouraged,  for  obvi- 
ous reasons.  But  the  smile  is  to  be  used  upon  all 
pleasant  occasions,  when  speaking  to  a superior  or 
to  an  equal,  and  even  upon  occasions  which  are  not 
pleasant ; it  is  a part  of  deportment.  The  most 
agreeable  face  is  the  smiling  face ; and  to  present 
always  the  most  agreeable  face  possible  to  parents. 


6G8  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


relatives,  teachers,  friends,  well-\Aishers,  is  a rule  of 
life.  And  furthermore,  it  is  a rule  of  life  to  turn 
constantly  to  the  outer  world  a mien  of  happiness,  to 
convey  to  others  as  far  as  possible  a pleasant  impres- 
sion. Even  though  the  heart  is  breaking,  it  is  a 
social  duty  to  smile  bravely.  On  the  other  hand,  to 
look  serious  or  unhappy  is  rude,  because  this  may 
C l use  anxiety  or  pain  to  those  who  love  us  ; it  is 
likewise  foolish,  since  it  may  excite  unkindly  curi- 
osity on  the  part  of  those  who  love  us  not.  Cul- 
tivated from  childhood  as  a dut\%  the  smile  soon 
becomes  instinctive.  In  the  mind  of  the  poorest 
peasant  lives  the  conviction  that  to  exhibit  the  ex- 
pression of  one’s  personal  sorrow  or  pain  or  anger  is 
rarely  useful,  and  always  unkind.  Hence,  although 
natural  grief  must  have,  in  Japan  as  elsewhere,  its 
natural  issue,  an  uncontrollable  burst  of  tears  in  the 
presence  of  superiors  or  guests  is  an  impoliteness ; 
and  the  first  w’ords  of  even  the  most  unlettered  coun- 
trywoman, after  the  nerves  give  way  in  such  a cir- 
cumstance, are  invariably  : “ Pardon  my  selfishness 
in  that  I have  been  so  rude ! ” The  reasons  for  the 
smile,  be  it  also  observed,  are  not  only  moral;  they 
are  to  some  extent  sesthetic ; they  partly  represent 
the  same  idea  which  regulated  the  expression  of  suf- 
fering in  Greek  art.  But  they  are  much  more  moral 
than  aesthetic,  as  we  shall  presently  observe. 

From  this  primary  etiquette  of  the  smile  there  has 
been  developed  a secondary  etiquette,  the  observance 
of  which  has  frequently  impelled  foreigners  to  form 
the  most  cruel  misjudgments  as  to  Japanese  sensibil- 
ity. It  is  the  native  custom  that  whenever  a painful 
or  shocking  fact  vmst  be  told,  the  announcement 
should  be  made,  by  the  sufferer,  with  a smile. ^ The 

1 Of  course  the  converse  is  the  rule  in  condoling  with  the  sufferer. 


THE  JAPANESE  SMILE. 


669 


graver  the  subject,  the  more  accentuated  the  smile ; 
and  when  the  matter  is  very  unpleasant  to  the  person 
speaking  of  it,  the  smile  often  changes  to  a low,  soft 
laugh.  However  bitterly  the  motlier  who  has  lost 
her  tirst-born  may  have  wept  at  the  funeral,  it  is 
probable  that,  if  in  your  service,  she  will  tell  of  her 
bereavement  with  a smile:  like  the  Preacher,  she 
holds  that  there  is  a time  to  weep  and  a time  to 
laugh.  It  was  long  before  I myself  could  under- 
stand how  it  was  possible  for  those  whom  I believed 
to  have  loved  a person  recently  dead  to  announce 
to  me  that  death  with  a laugh.  Yet  the  laugh  was 
politeness  carried  to  the  utmost  point  of  self-abnega- 
tion. It  signified:  “ This  you  might  honorably  think 
to  be  an  unhappy  event ; pray  do  not  suffer  Your 
Superiority  to  feel  concern  about  so  inferior  a matter, 
and  pardon  the  necessity  which  causes  us  to  outrage 
politeness  by  speaking  about  such  an  affair  at  all.” 
The  key  to  the  mystery  of  the  most  unaccounta- 
ble smiles  is  Japanese  politeness.  The  servant  sen- 
tenced to  dismissal  for  a fault  prostrates  himself,  and 
asks  for  pardon  with  a smile.  That  smile  indicates 
the  very  reverse  of  callousness  or  insolence : “ Be 
assured  that  I am  satisfied  with  the  great  justice  of 
your  honorable  sentence,  and  that  I am  now  aware 
of  the  gravity  of  my  fault.  Yet  my  sorrow  and  my 
necessity  have  caused  me  to  indulge  the  unreasona- 
ble hope  that  I may  be  forgiven  for  my  great  rude- 
ness in  asking  pardon.”  The  youth  or  girl  beyond 
the  age  of  childish  tears,  when  punished  for  some 
error,  receives  the  punishment  with  a smile  which 
means:  “ No  evil  feeling  arises  in  my  heart  5 much 
worse  than  this  my  fault  has  deserved.”  And  the 
kurumaya  cut  by  the  whip  of  my  Y^okohama  friend 


670  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


smiled  for  a similar  reason,  as  my  friend  must  have 
intuitively  felt,  since  the  smile  at  once  disarmed  him  : 
“ I was  very  wrong,  and  you  are  right  to  be  angry : 
I deserve  to  be  struck,  and  therefore  feel  no  resent- 
ment.” 

But  it  should  be  understood  that  the  poorest  and 
humblest  Japanese  is  rarely  submissive  under  injus- 
tice. His  apparent  docility  is  due  chiefly  to  his 
moral  sense.  The  foreigner  who  strikes  a native  for 
sport  may  have  reason  to  And  that  he  has  made  a 
serious  mistake.  The  Japanese  are  not  to  be  trifled 
with  ; and  brutal  attempts  to  trifle  with  them  have 
cost  several  worthless  lives. 

Even  after  the  foregoing  explanations,  the  incident 
of  the  Japanese  nurse  may  still  seem  incomprehen- 
sible ; but  this,  I feel  quite  sure,  is  because  the  nar- 
rator either  suppressed  or  overlooked  certain  facts  in 
the  case.  In  the  first  half  of  the  stor}%  all  is  per- 
fectly clear.  When  announcing  her  husband’s  death, 
the  young  servant  smiled,  in  accordance  with  the 
native  formality  already  referred  to.  What  is  quite 
incredible  is  that,  of  her  own  accord,  she  should 
have  invited  the  attention  of  her  mistress  to  the 
contents  of  the  vase,  or  funeral  urn.  If  she  knew 
enough  of  Japanese  politeness  to  smile  in  announ- 
cing her  husband’s  death,  she  must  certainly  have 
known  enough  to  prevent  her  from  perpetrating  such 
an  error.  She  could  have  shown  the  vase  and  its 
contents  only  in  obedience  to  some  real  or  fancied 
command ; and  when  so  doing,  it  is  more  than  possi- 
ble she  may  have  uttered  the  low,  soft  laugh  which 
accompanies  either  the  unavoidable  performance  of  a 
painful  duty,  or  the  enforced  utterance  of  a painful 
statement.  My  own  opinion  is  that  she  was  obliged 


THE  JAPANESE  SMILE. 


671 


to  gratify  a wanton  curiosity.  Her  smile  or  laugh 
would  then  have  signified  : “ Do  not  suffer  your  hon- 
orable feelings  to  be  shocked  upon  my  unworthy 
account ; it  is  indeed  very  rude  of  me,  even  at  your 
honorable  request,  to  mention  so  contemptible  a 
thing  as  my  sorrow.” 

IV. 

But  the  Japanese  smile  must  not  be  imagined  as 
a kind  of  sourire  fige,  worn  perpetually  as  a soul- 
mask.  Like  other  matters  of  deportment,  it  is  regu- 
lated by  an  etiquette  which  varies  in  different  classes 
of  society.  As  a rule,  the  old  samurai  were  not 
given  to  smiling  upon  all  occasions  ; they  reserved 
their  amiability  for  superiors  and  intimates,  and 
would  seem  to  have  maintained  toward  inferiors  an 
austere  reserve.  The  dignity  of  the  Shinto  priest- 
hood has  become  proverbial  ; and  for  centuries  the 
gravity  of  the  Confucian  code  was  mirrored  in  the 
decorum  of  magistrates  and  officials.  From  ancient 
times  the  nobility  affected  a still  loftier  reserve;  and 
the  solemnity  of  rank  deepened  through  all  the  hie- 
rarchies up  to  that  awful  state  surrounding  the  Ten- 
shi-Sama,  upon  whose  face  no  living  man  might  look. 
But  in  private  life  the  demeanor  of  the  highest  had 
its  amiable  relaxation  ; and  even  to-day,  with  some 
hopelessly  modernized  exceptions,  the  noble,  the 
judge,  the  high  priest,  the  august  minister,  the  mili- 
tary officer,  will  resume  at  home,  in  the  intervals  of 
duty,  the  charming  habits  of  the  antique  courtesy. 

The  smile  which  illuminates  conversation  is  in 
itself  but  a small  detail  of  that  courtesy;  but  the 
sentiment  which  it  symbolizes  certainly  comprises 
the  larger  part.  If  you  happen  to  have  a cultivated 
Japanese  friend  who  has  remained  in  all  things  truly 


672 


GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


Japanese,  whose  character  has  remained  untouched 
by  the  new  egotism  and  by  foreign  influences,  you 
will  probably  be  able  to  study  in  him  the  particular 
social  traits  of  the  whole  people,  — traits  in  his  case 
exquisitely  accentuated  and  polished.  You  will  ob- 
serve that,  as  a rule,  he  never  speaks  of  himself, 
and  that,  in  reply  to  searching  personal  questions,  he 
will  answer  as  vaguely  and  briefly  as  possible,  with  a 
polite  bow  of  thanks.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  he  will 
ask  many  questions  about  yourself : your  opinions, 
your  ideas,  even  trifling  details  of  your  daily  life, 
appear  to  have  deep  interest  for  him  ; and  you  will 
probably  have  occasion  to  note  that  he  never  forgets 
anything  which  he  has  learned  concerning  you.  Yet 
there  are  certain  rigid  limits  to  his  kindly  curiosity, 
and  perhaps  even  to  his  observation : he  will  never 
refer  to  any  disagreeable  or  painful  matter,  and  lie  will 
seem  to  remain  blind  to  eccentricities  or  small  weak- 
nesses, if  you  have  any.  To  youi-  face  he  will  never 
praise  you  ; but  he  will  never  laugh  at  you  nor  criti- 
cise you.  Indeed,  you  will  And  that  he  never  criti- 
cises pei'sons,  but  only  actions  in  their  results.  As 
a private  adviser,  he  will  not  even  directly  criticise  a 
plan  of  which  he  disapproves,  but  is  apt  to  suggest 
a new  one  in  some  such  guarded  language  as : “ Per- 
haps it  might  be  more  to  j'our  immediate  interest  to 
do  thus  and  so.”  When  obliged  to  speak  of  others, 
he  will  refer  to  them  in  a curious  indirect  fashion,  by 
citing  and  combining  a number  of  incidents  suflli- 
ciently  characteristic  to  form  a picture.  But  in 
that  event  the  incidents  narrated  will  almost  cer- 
tainly be  of  a nature  to  awaken  interest,  and  to  create 
a favorable  impre.ssion.  This  indirect  way  of  con- 
veying information  is  essentially  Confuciau.  “ Even 


THE  JAPANESE  SMILE. 


G73 


when  you  have  no  doubts,”  says  the  Li-Ki,  “do  not 
let  what  you  say  appeal’  as  youi-  own  view.”  And  it  is 
quite  probable  that  you  will  notice  many  other  traits 
in  your  friend  requiring  some  knowledge  of  the  Chi- 
nese classics  to  understand.  But  no  such  knowledge 
is  necessary  to  convince  you  of  his  exquisite  consider- 
ation for  others,  and  his  studied  suppression  of  self. 
Among  no  other  civilized  people  is  the  secret  of  happy' 
living  so  thoroughly  comprehended  as  among  the 
Japanese;  by  no  otlier  race  is  the  truth  so  widely 
understood  that  our  pleasure  in  life  must  depend  upon 
the  happiness  of  those  about  us,  and  consequently' 
iqion  the  cultivation  in  ourselves  of  unselfishness  and 
of  patience.  For  which  reason,  in  Japanese  society', 
sarcasm,  irony',  cruel  wit,  are  not  indulged.  I might 
almost  say  tliat  they  have  no  existence  in  refined  life. 
A jjersonal  failing  is  not  made  the  subject  of  ridicule 
or  reproach  ; an  eccentricity  is  not  eoinmented  upon  ; 
an  involuntary'  mistake  excites  no  laugliter. 

Stiffened  somewhat  by  the  Chinese  conservatism 
of  the  old  conditions,  it  is  true  that  this  ethical  sys- 
tem was  maintained  to  the  extreme  of  giving  fixity 
to  ideas,  and  at  the  cost  of  individuality.  And  yet, 
if  regulated  by  a broader  comprehension  of  social  re- 
quirements, if  expanded  by  scientific  understanding 
of  the  freedom  essential  to  intellectual  evolution,  the 
very  same  moral  policy'  is  that  tlu’ough  which  the 
highest  and  happiest  results  may  be  obtained.  But 
as  actually  practiced  it  was  not  favorable  to  origi- 
nality; it  rather  tended  to  enforce  that  amiable  medi- 
ocrity of  opinion  and  imagination  which  still  pre- 
vails. Wherefore  a foreign  dweller  in  the  interior 
cannot  but  long  sometimes  for  the  sharp,  erratic 
inequalities  of  Western  life,  with  its  larger  joys  and 


674  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


pains  and  its  more  comprehensive  sympathies.  But 
sometimes  only,  for  the  intellectual  loss  is  really 
more  than  compensated  by  the  social  charm  ; and 
there  can  remain  no  doubt  in  the  mind  of  one  who 
even  partly  understands  the  Japanese,  that  they  are 
still  the  best  people  in  the  world  to  live  among. 

V. 

As  I pen  these  lines,  there  returns  to  me  the 
vision  of  a Kyoto  night.  While  passing  through 
some  wonderfully  thronged  and  illuminated  street,  of 
which  I cannot  remember  the  name,  I had  turned 
aside  to  look  at  a statue  of  Jizo,  before  the  entrance 
of  a very  small  temple.  The  figure  was  that  of  a 
kozo,  an  acolyte,  — a beautiful  boy;  and  its  smile 
was  a bit  of  divine  realism.  As  I stood  g-azing,  a 
young  lad,  perhaps  ten  years  old,  ran  up  beside  me, 
joined  his  little  hands  before  the  image,  bowed  his 
head,  and  prayed  for  a moment  in  silence.  He  had 
but  just  left  some  comrades,  and  the  joy  and  glow  of 
play  were  still  upon  his  face;  and  his  unconscious 
smile  was  so  strangely  like  the  smile  of  the  child  of 
stone  that  the  boy  seemed  the  twin  brother  of  the 
god.  And  then  I thought:  “ The  smile  of  bronze  or 
stone  is  not  a copy  only  ; but  that  which  the  Bud- 
dhist sculptor  symbolizes  thereby  must  be  the  expla- 
nation of  the  smile  of  the  race.” 

That  was  long  ago ; but  the  idea  which  then  sug- 
gested itself  still  seems  to  me  tnie.  However  for- 
eign to  Japanese  soil  the  origin  of  Buddhist  art,  yet 
the  smile  of  the  people  signifies  the  same  concep- 
tion as  the  smile  of  the  Bosatsu,  — the  happiness 
that  is  born  of  self-control  and  self-suppression.  “If 
a man  conquer  in  battle  a thousand  times  a thousand. 


THE  JAPANESE  SMILE. 


675 


and  another  conquer  himself,  he  who  conquers  him- 
self is  the  greatest  of  conquerors.”  “ Not  even  a 
god  can  change  into  defeat  the  victory  of  the  man 
wlio  has  vanquished  himself.”  ^ Such  Buddhist  texts 
as  these  — and  they  are  many  — assuredly  express, 
though  they  cannot  be  assumed  to  have  created,  those 
moral  tendencies  which  form  the  highest  charm  of 
the  Japanese  character.  And  the  wdiole  moral  ideal- 
ism of  the  race  seems  to  me  to  have  been  imaged  in 
that  marvelous  Buddha  of  Kamakura,  whose  coun- 
tenance, “calm  like  a deep,  still  water,” ^ expresses, 
as  perhaps  no  other  work  of  human  hands  can  have 
expressed,  the  eternal  truth  : “ There  is  no  higher 
happiness  than  rest.”®  It  is  toward  that  infinite 
calm  that  the  aspirations  of  the  Orient  liave  been 
turned  ; and  the  ideal  of  the  Supreme  Self-Conquest 
it  has  made  its  own.  Even  now,  though  agitated  at 
its  surface  by  those  new  influences  which  must  sooner 
or  later  move  it  even  to  its  uttermost  depths,  the 
Japanese  mind  retains,  as  compared  with  the  thought 
of  the  AVest,  a wonderful  jdacidity.  It  dwells  but 
little,  if  at  all,  upon  those  ultimate  abstract  questions 
about  which  we  most  concern  ourselves.  Neither 
does  it  comprehend  our  interest  in  them  as  we  de- 
sire to  be  comprehended.  “That  you  sliould  not  be 
indifferent  to  religious  speculations,”  a Japanese 
scholar  once  observed  to  me,  “ is  quite  natural ; but 
it  is  equally  natural  that  we  should  never  trouble 
ourselves  about  them.  The  philosophy  of  Buddhism 
has  a profundity  far  exceeding  that  of  your  AVestern 
theology,  and  we  have  studied  it.  AA^e  have  sounded 
the  depths  of  speculation  only  to  find  that  there  are 
depths  unfathomable  below  those  depths  ; we  have 
1 Dhammapada.  ^ Dammikkasutta.  ^ Dhammapada. 


076  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


voyaged  to  the  farthest  limit  that  thought  may  sail, 
only  to  find  that  the  horizon  forever  recedes.  And 
you,  you  have  remained  for  many  thousand  years  as 
children  playing  in  a stream,  but  ignorant  of  the  sea. 
Only  now  you  have  reached  its  shore  by  another  palh 
than  ours,  and  the  vastness  is  for  you  a new  wonder ; 
and  you  would  sail  to  Nowhere  because  you  have 
seen  the  infinite  over  the  sands  of  life.” 

Will  Japan  be  able  to  assimilate  Western  civiliza- 
tion, as  she  did  Chinese  more  than  ten  centuries  ago, 
and  nevertheless  preserve  her  own  peculiar  modes  of 
thought  and  feeling?  One  striking  fact  is  hopeful : 
that  the  Japanese  admiration  for  Western  material 
superiority  is  by  no  means  extended  to  Western 
morals.  Oriental  thinkers  do  not  commit  the  serious 
blunder  of  confounding  mechanical  with  ethical  pro- 
gress, nor  have  they  failed  to  perceive  the  moral 
weaknesses  of  our  boasted  civilization.  One  Japa- 
nese writer  has  expressed  his  judgment  of  things 
Occidental  after  a fashion  that  deserves  to  be  noticed 
by  a larger  circle  of  readers  than  that  for  which  it 
was  originally  written  : — 

“ Order  or  disorder  in  a nation  does  not  depend 
upon  something  that  falls  from  the  sky  or  rises  from 
the  earth.  It  is  determined  b}’  the  disposition  of  the 
people.  The  pivot  on  which  the  public  disposition 
turns  towards  order  or  disorder  is  the  point  where 
public  and  private  motives  separate.  If  the  people 
be  influenced  chiefly  by  public  considerations,  order  is 
assured  ; if  by  private,  disorder  is  inevihible.  Public 
considerations  are  those  that  prompt  the  proper  ob- 
servance of  duties ; their  prevalence  signifies  peace 
and  prosperity  in  the  case  alike  of  families,  commu- 


THE  JAPANESE  SMILE. 


677 


nities,  and  nations.  Private  considerations  are  those 
suggested  by  selhsh  motives  : when  they  prevail,  di~- 
turbance  and  disorder  are  unavoidable.  As  members 
of  a family,  our  duty  is  to  look  after  the  welfare  of 
that  family  ; as  units  of  a nation,  our  duty  is  to  work 
for  the  good  of  the  nation.  To  regard  our  family 
affairs  with  all  the  interest  due  to  our  family,  and 
our  national  affairs  with  all  the  interest  due  to  our 
nation,  — this  is  to  fitly  discharge  our  duty,  and  to 
be  guided  by  public  considerations.  On  the  other 
hand,  to  regard  the  affairs  of  the  nation  as  if  they 
were  our  own  family  affairs,  — this  is  to  be  influenced 
by  private  motives  and  to  stray  from  the  path  of 
duty.  . . . 

“ Selfishness  is  born  in  every  man ; to  indulge  it 
freely  is  to  become  a beast.  Therefore  it  • is  that 
sages  preach  the  principles  of  duty  and  propriety, 
justice  and  morality,  providing  restraints  for  private 
aims  and  encouragements  for  public  spirit.  . . . 
AVhat  we  know  of  Western  civilization  is  that  it 
struggled  on  through  long  centuries  in  a confused 
condition,  and  finally  attained  a state  of  some  order; 
but  that  even  this  order,  not  being  based  upon  such 
principles  as  those  of  the  natural  and  immutable 
distinctions  between  sovereign  and  subject,  parent 
and  child,  wdth  all  their  corresponding  rights  and 
duties,  is  liable  to  constant  change,  according  to  the 
growth  of  human  ambitions  and  human  aims.  Ad- 
mirably suited  to  persons  whose  actions  are  con- 
trolled by  selfish  ambition,  the  adoption  of  this  s}’s- 
tem  in  Japan  is  naturally  sought  b}'^  a certain  class 
of  politicians.  From  a superficial  point  of  view,  the 
Occidental  form  of  society  is  very  attractive,  inas- 
much as,  being  the  outcome  of  a free  development  of 


678  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


•human  desires  from  ancient  times,  it  represents  the 
very  extreme  of  luxury  and  extravagance.  Briefly 
speaking,  the  state  of  things  obtaining  in  the  West 
is  based  upon  the  free  play  of  human  selfishness, 
and  can  only  be  reached  by  giving  full  sway  to  that 
quality.  Social  disturbances  are  little  heeded  in  the 
Occident ; yet  they  are  at  once  tlie  evidences  and 
tlie  factors  of  tlie  present  evil  state  ‘of  affairs.  . . . 
Do  Japanese  enamored  of  Western  ways  propose  to 
have  their  nation’s  history  written  in  similar  terms? 
Do  they  seriously  contemplate  turning  their  country 
into  a new  field  for  experiments  in  Western  civiliza- 
tion ? . . . 

“ In  the  Orient,  from  ancient  times,  national  gov- 
ernment lias  been  based  on  benevolence,  and  directed 
to  securing  the  welfare  and  happiness  of  the  people. 
No  political  creed  has  ever  held  that  intellectual 
strength  should  be  cultivated  for  the  purpose  of  ex- 
ploiting inferiority  and  ignorance.  . . . The  inhab- 
itants of  this  empire  live,  for  the  most  part,  by 
manual  labor.  Let  them  be  never  so  industrious, 
they  hardly  earn  enough  to  supply  their  daily  wants. 
They  earn  on  the  average  about  twenty  sen  dailj'. 
There  is  no  question  with  them  of  aspiring  to  wear 
fine  clothes  or  to  inhabit  handsome  houses.  Neither 
can  they  hope  to  reach  positions  of  fame  and  honor. 
What  offense  have  these  poor  people  committed  that 
they,  too,  should  not  share  the  benefits  of  Western 
civilization  ? . . . By  some,  indeed,  their  condition 
is  explained  on  the  hypothesis  that  their  desires  do 
not  prompt  them  to  better  themselves.  There  is  no 
truth  in  such  a su2iposition.  They  have  desires,  but 
nature  has  limited  their  capacity  to  satisfy  them  ; 
their  duty  as  men  limits  it,  and  the  amount  of  labor 


THE  JAPANESE  SMILE. 


679 


physically  possible  to  a human  being  limits  it.  They 
achieve  as  much  as  their  opportunities  permit.  The 
best  and  finest  products  of  their  labor  they  reserve 
for  the  wealthy  ; the  worst  and  roughest  they  keep 
for  their  own  use.  Yet  there  is  nothing  in  human 
society  that  does  not  owe  its  existence  to  labor. 
Now,  to  satisfy  the  desires  of  one  luxurious  man, 
the  toil  of  a thousand  is  needed.  Surely  it  is  mon- 
strous that  those  who  owe  to  labor  the  pleasui’es 
suggested  by  their  civilization  should  forget  what 
they  owe  to  the  laborer,  and  treat  him  as  if  he  were 
not  a fellow-being.  But  civilization,  according  to  the 
interpretation  of  the  Occident,  serves  only  to  satisfy 
men  of  large  desires.  It  is  of  no  benefit  to  the 
masses,  but  is  simply  a system  under  which  ambi- 
tions compete  to  accomplish  their  aims.  . . . That 
the  Occidental  system  is  gravely  disturbing  to  the 
order  and  j)eaceof  a country  is  seen  by  men  who  have 
eyes,  and  heard  by  men  who  have  ears.  The  future 
of  Japan  under  such  a system  fills  us  with  anxiety. 
A system  based  on  the  principle  that  ethics  and  re- 
ligion are  made  to  serve  human  ambition  naturally 
accords  with  the  wishes  of  selfish  individuals;  and 
such  theories  as  those  embodied  in  the  modern  for- 
mula of  liberty  and  equality  annihilate  the  estab- 
lished relations  of  society,  and  outrage  decorum  and 
propriety.  . . . Absolute  equality  and  absolute  lib- 
erty being  unattainable,  the  limits  prescribed  by  right 
and  duty  are  supposed  to  be  set.  But  as  each  person 
seeks  to  have  as  much  right  and  to  be  burdened 
with  as  little  duty  as  possible,  the  results  are  endless 
disputes  and  legal  contentions.  The  principles  of 
liberty  and  equality  may  succeed  in  changing  the 
organization  of  nations,  in  overthrowing  the  lawful 

VOL.  II. 


680  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


distinctions  of  social  rank,  in  reducing  all  men  to  one 
nominal  level ; but  they  can  never  accomplish  the 
equal  distribution  of  wealth  and  property.  Consider 
America.  ...  It  is  plain  tliat  if  the  mutual  rights 
of  men  and  their  status  are  made  to  depend  on  de- 
grees of  wealth,  the  majority  of  the  people,  being 
without  wealth,  must  fail  to  establish  their  rights; 
whereas  the  minority  who  are  wealth}'  will  assert 
their  rights,  and,  under  society’s  sanction,  will  exact 
oppressive  duties  from  the  poor,  neglecting  the  dic- 
tates of  humanity  and  benevolence.  The  adoption 
of  these  principles  of  liberty  and  equality  in  Japan 
would  vitiate  the  good  and  peaceful  customs  of  our 
counti’y,  render  the  general  disposition  of  the  people 
harsh  and  unfeeling,  and  prove  finally  a source  of 
calamity  to  the  masses.  . . . 

“Though  at  first  sight  Occidental  civilization  pre- 
sents an  attractive  appearance,  adapted  as  it  is  to 
the  gratification  of  selfish  desires,  yet,  since  its  basis 
is  the  hypothesis  that  men’s  wishes  constitute  natural 
laws,  it  must  ultimately  end  in  disappointment  and 
demoralization.  . . . Occidental  nations  have  become 
what  they  are  after  passing  through  conflicts  and 
vicissitudes  of  the  most  serious  kind;  and  it  is  their 
fate  to  continue  the  struggle.  Just  now  their  motive 
elements  are  in  partial  equilibrium,  and  their  social 
condition  is  more  or  less  ordered.  But  if  this  slight 
equilibrium  happens  to  be  disturbed,  they  will  be 
thrown  once  more  into  confusion  and  change,  until, 
after  a period  of  renewed  struggle  and  suffering, 
temporary  stability  is  once  more  attained.  The  poor 
and  powerless  of  the  present  may  become  the  wealthy 
and  strong  of  the  future,  and  vice  versa.  Perpetual 
disturbance  is  their  doom.  Peaceful  equality  can 


THE  JAPANESE  SMILE. 


681 


never  be  attained  until  built  up  among  the  ruins  of 
annihilated  Western  states  and  the  ashes  of  extinct 
Western  peoples.”  ^ 

Surely,  with  perceptions  like  these,  Japan  may 
hope  to  avert  some  of  the  social  perils  which  menace 
her.  Yet  it  appears  inevitable  that  her  approaching 
transformation  must  be  coincident  with  a moral  de- 
cline. Forced  into  the  vast  industrial  competition 
of  nations  whose  civilizations  were  never  based  on 
altruism,  she  must  eventually  develop  those  qualities 
of  which  the  comparative  absence  made  all  the  won- 
derful charm  of  her  life.  The  national  character 
must  continue  to  harden,  as  it  has  begun  to  harden 
already.  But  it  should  never  be  forgotten  that  old 
Japan  was  quite  as  much  in  advance  of  the  nine- 
teenth century  morally  as  she  was  behind  it  materi- 
ally. She  had  made  morality  instinctive,  after  hav- 
ing made  it  rational.  She  had  realized,  though 
within  restricted  limits,  several  among  those  social 
conditions  w'hicli  our  ablest  thinkers  regard  as  the 
happiest  and  the  highest.  Throughout  all  the  grades 
of  her  complex  society  she  had  cultivated  both  the 

1 These  extracts  from  a translation  in  the  Japan  Daily  Mail,  No- 
vember 19,  20,  1890,  of  Viscount  Torio’s  famous  conservative  essay 
do  not  give  a fair  idea  of  the  force  and  logic  of  the  whole.  The 
essay  is  too  long  to  quote  entire ; and  any  e.xtracts  from  the  Mail’s 
admirable  translation  suffer  by  their  isolation  from  the  singular 
chains  of  ethical,  religious,  and  philosophical  reasoning  which  bind 
the  various  parts  of  the  composition  together.  The  essay  was  fur- 
thermore remarkable  as  the  production  of  a native  scholar,  totally 
uninfluenced  by  Western  thought.  He  correctly  predicted  those  social 
and  political  di.sturbances  which  have  occurred  in  Japan  since  the 
opening  of  the  new  parliament.  Viscount  Torio  is' also  well  known 
as  a master  of  Buddhist  philosophy.  He  holds  a high  rank  in  the 
Japanese  army. 


682  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


comprehension  and  the  practice  of  public  and  private 
duties  after  a manner  for  which  it  were  vain  to  seek 
any  Western  parallel.  Even  her  moral  weakness 
was  the  result  of  an  excess  of  that  which  all  civilized 
religions  have  united  in  proclaiming  virtue,  — the  self- 
sacrifice  of  the  individual  for  the  sake  of  the  family, 
of  the  community,  and  of  the  nation.  It  was  the 
weakness  indicated  by  Peicival  Lowell  in  his  “ Soul 
of  the  Far  East,”  a book  of  which  the  consummate 
genius  cannot  be  justly  estimated  without  some  per- 
sonal knowledge  of  the  Far  East.^  The  progress 

1 In  expressing  my  earnest  admiration  of  this  wonderful  book,  I 
must,  however,  declare  that  several  of  iis  conclusions,  and  es[)ccially 
the  final  ones,  represent  the  extreme  reverse  of  my  own  beliefs  on  the 
subject.  I do  not  think  the  Japanese  without  individuality  ; but  their 
individuality  is  le.ss  superficially  apparent,  and  reveals  itself  much 
less  quickly,  than  that  of  Western  people.  I am  al.-^o  convinced  that 
much  of  what  we  call  “personality”  and  “force  of  character”  in 
the  West  represents  only  the  survival  and  recognition  of  primitive 
ag;>ressi\'e  tendencie.s,  more  or  less  disguised  by  culture.  What  Mr. 
Spencer  calls  the  highest  individuation  .■•urely  does  not  include  extraor- 
dinary development  of  powers  adapted  to  merely  aggressive  ends; 
and  yet  it  is  rather  through  these  than  through  any  others  that  West- 
ern individuality  most  commonly  and  readily  manifests  itself.  Xow 
there  is,  as  yet,  a remarkable  scarcity  in  Japan,  of  domineering,  brutal, 
aggressive,  or  morbid  individuality.  What  does  impress  one  as  an 
apparent  weakness  in  Japanese  intellectual  circles  is  the  comparative 
absence  of  spontaneity,  creative  thought,  original  perceptivity  of  the 
highest  order.  Perhaps  this  seeming  deficiency  is  racial:  the  peoples 
of  the  Far  East  seem  to  have  been  throughout  their  hi-tory  recejjtive 
rather  than  creative.  At  all  events  I cannot  believe  Buddhism  — 
originally  the  faith  of  an  Aryan  race — can  be  proven  responsible. 
The  total  exclusion  of  Buddhist  influence  from  public  education  would 
not  seem  to  have  been  stimulating;  for  the  masters  of  the  old  Bud- 
dhist philosophy  still  show  a far  higher  capacity  for  thinking  in  rela- 
tions than  that  of  the  average  graduate  of  the  Imperial  University. 
Indeed,  I am  inclined  to  believe  that  an  intellectual  revival  of  Bud- 
dhism — a harmonizing  of  its  loftier  truths  with  the  best  and  broadest 
teachings  of  modern  science  — would  have  the  most  important  results 
for.Iapan.  A native  scholar,  Mr.  Inouye  Eiiryo,  has  actually  founded 


THE  JAPANESE  SMILE. 


683 


made  by  Japan  in  social  morality,  although  greater 
than  our  own,  was  chiefly  in  the  direction  of  mutual 
dependence.  And  it  will  be  her  coming  duty  to 
keep  in  view  the  teaching  of  that  mighty  thinker 
wliose  philosophy  she  has  wisely  accepted,^  — the 
teaching  that  “ the  highest  individuation  must  be 
joined  with  the  greatest  mutual  dependence,”  and 
that,  however  seemingly  paradoxical  the  statement, 
“ the  law  of  progress  is  at  once  toward  complete  sep- 
arateness and  complete  union.” 

Yet  to  that  past  which  her  younger  generation 
now  affect  to  despise  Japan  will  certainly  one  day 
look  back,  even  as  we  ourselves  look  back  to  the  old 
Greek  civilization.  She  will  learn  to  regret  the  for- 
gotten capacity  for  simple  pleasures,  the  lost  sense  of 
the  pure  joy  of  life,  the  old  loving  divine  intimacy 
vith  nature,  the  marvelous  dead  art  which  reflected 
it.  She  will  remember  how  much  more  luminous 
and  beautiful  the  world  then  seemed.  She  will 
mourn  for  many  things,  — the  old-fashioned  patience 
and  self-sacrifice,  the  ancient  courtesy,  the  deep 
human  poetry  of  the  ancient  faith.  She  will  wonder 
at  many  things  ; but  she  will  regret.  Perhaps  she 
will  wonder  most  of  all  at  the  faces  of  the  ancient 
gods,  because  their  smile  was  once  the  likeness  of  her 
own. 

at  Tokyo  with  this  noble  object  in  view,  a college  of  philosophy  which 
seems  likely,  at  the  present  writing,  to  become  an  influential  institu- 
tion. 

1 Herbert  Spencer. 


XXVII 


SAYONARA ! 


I. 

I A3I  going  away,  — very  far  away.  I have  already 
resigned  my  post  as  teacher,  and  am  waiting  only  for 
my  passport. 

So  many  familiar  faces  have  vanished  that  I feel 
now  less  regret  at  leaving  than  I should  have  felt  six 
months  ago.  And  nevertheless,  the  quaint  old  city 
has  become  so  endeared  to  me  by  habit  and  associ- 
ation that  the  thought  of  never  seeing  it  again  is  one 
I do  not  venture  to  dwell  upon.  I liave  been  trying 
to  persuade  myself  that  some  day  I may  return  to 
this  charming  old  house,  in  shadowy  Kitaborimachi, 
though  all  the  while  painfully  aware  that  in  past 
experience  such  imaginations  invariably  preceded 
perpetual  separation. 

The  facts  are  that  all  things  are  impermanent  in 
the  Province  of  the  Gods ; that  the  winters  are  very 
severe ; and  that  I have  received  a call  from  the 
great  Government  college  in  Kyushu,  far  south,  where 
snow  rarely  falls.  Also  I have  been  very  sick ; and 
the  prospect  of  a milder  climate  had  much  influence 
in  shaping  my  decision. 

But  these  few  days  of  farewells  have  been  full  of 
charming  surprises.  To  have  the  revelation  of  grati- 
tude where  you  had  no  right  to  expect  moi’e  than 
plain  satisfaction  with  your  performance  of  duty ; 


SA  YONARA  ! 


685 


to  find  affection  where  you  supposed  only  good-will 
to  exist:  these  are  assuredly  delicious  experiences. 

The  teachers  of  both  schools  have  sent  me  a fare- 
well gift, — a supex’b  pair  of  vases  nearly  three  feet 
high,  covered  with  designs  representing  birds,  and 
flowering-trees  overhanging  a slope  of  beach  where 
funny  pink  crabs  are  running  about,  — vases  made  in 
the  old  feudal  days  at  Rakusan,  — rare  souvenirs  of 
Izumo.  With  the  wonderful  vases  came  a scroll 
bearing  in  Chinese  text  the  names  of  the  thirty-two 
donors  ; and  three  of  these  are  names  of  ladies,  — the 
three  lady -teachers  of  the  Normal  School. 

The  students  of  the  Jinjo-Cliiigakko  have  also  sent 
me  a present,  — the  last  contribution  of  two  hundred 
and  fifty -one  pupils  to  my  happiest  memories  of 
jMatsue : a Japanese  sword  of  the  time  of  the  dai- 
myo.  Silver  karashishi  with  eyes  of  gold  — in  Izumo, 
the  Lions  of  Shinto  — swarm  over  the  crimson  lacquer 
of  the  sheath,  and  sprawl  about  the  exquisite  hilt. 
And  the  committee  w'ho  brought  the  beautiful  thing 
to  my  house  requested  me  to  accompany  them  forth- 
with to  the  college  assembly-room,  where  the  students 
were  all  waiting  to  bid  me  good-by,  after  the  old- 
time  custom. 

So  I went  there.  And  the  things  which  we  said  to 
each  other  are  hereafter  set  down. 


II. 

Dear  Teacher  : — You  have  been  one  of  the  best  and 
most  benevolent  teachers  we  ever  had.  We  thank  you  with 
all  our  heart  for  the  knowledge  we  obtained  through  your 
kindest  instruction.  Every  student  in  our  school  hoped  you 
w'ould  stay  with  us  at  least  three  years.  When  we  learned 
you  had  resolved  to  go  to  Kyushii,  we  all  felt  our  hearts 


686  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


sink  with  sorrow.  We  entreated  our  Director  to  find  some 
way  to  keep  you,  but  we  discovered  that  could  not  be  done. 
We  have  no  words  to  express  our  feeling  at  this  moment  of 
farewell.  We  sent  you  a Japanese  sword  as  a memory  of 
us.  It  was  only  a poor  ugly  thing ; we  merely  thought  you 
would  care  for  it  as  a mark  of  our  gratitude.  We  will  never 
forget  your  kindest  instruction  ; and  we  all  wish  that  you 
may  ever  be  healthy  and  happy. 

Masaxabu  Otaxi, 

Representing  all  the  Students  of  the  Middle  School 
of  Shimane-Ken. 

My  dear  Boys  : — I cannot  tell  you  with  what  feelings 
I received  your  present ; that  beautiful  sword  with  the  silver 
karasliishi  ramping  upon  its  sheath,  or  crawling  through  the 
silken  cording  of  its  wonderful  liilt.  At  least  I cannot  tell 
you  aU.  But  there  flashed  to  me,  as  I looked  at  j'our  gift, 
the  remembrance  of  your  ancient  proverb : “ The  Sword  is 
the  Soul  of  the  Samurai.”  And  then  it  seemed  to  me  that 
in  the  very  choice  of  that  exquisite  souvenir  you  had  sym- 
bolized something  of  your  own  souls.  For  we  English  also 
have  some  famous  sayings  and  proverbs  about  swords.  Our 
poets  call  a good  blade  “ trusty  ” and  “ true  ” ; and  of  our  best 
friend  we  say,  “ He  is  true  as  steel,”  — signifying  in  the  an- 
cient sense  the  steel  of  a perfect  sword,  — the  steel  to  whose 
temper  a warrior  could  trust  his  honor  and  his  life.  And 
so  in  your  rare  gift,  wliich  I shall  keep  and  prize  while  I 
live,  I find  an  emblem  of  your  true-heartedness  and  affection. 
May  you  always  keep  fresh  ■within  your  hearts  those  im- 
pulses of  generosity  and  kindliness  and  loyalty  which  I have 
learned  to  know  so  well,  and  of  wliich  your  gift  will  ever 
remain  for  me  the  graceful  symbol ! 

And  a symbol  not  only  of  3’our  affection  and  loj'alty  as 
students  to  teachers,  but  of  that  other  beautiful  sense  of 
duty  you  expressed,  when  so  many  of  j'ou  wrote  down  for 
me,  as  your  dearest  wish,  the  desire  to  die  for  His  Imperial 
M.ajesty,  your  Emperor.  That  wish  is  holy  : it  means  jier- 


687 


haps  even  more  than  you  know,  or  can  know,  imtil  you  shall 
have  become  much  older  and  wiser.  This  is  an  era  of  great 
and  raj)id  change ; and  it  is  probable  that  many  of  you,  as 
you  gi’ow  up,  will  not  be  able  to  believe  everything  that  your 
fathers  believed  before  you  ; — though  I sincerely  trust  you 
will  at  least  continue  always  to  respect  the  faith,  even  as 
you  still  respect  the  memory,  of  your  ancestors.  But  how- 
ever much  the  life  of  JJew  Japan  may  change  about  you, 
however  much  your  own  thoughts  may  change  with  the 
times,  never  suffer  that  noble  wish  you  expressed  to  me  to 
pass  away  from  your  souls.  Keep  it  burning  there,  clear 
and  pure  as  the  flame  of  the  little  lamp  that  glows  before 
your  household  shrine. 

Perhaps  some  of  you  may  have  that  wish.  Many  of 
you  must  become  soldiers.  Some  will  become  officers. 
Some  will  enter  the  Naval  Academy  to  prepare  for  the 
grand  service  of  protecting  the  empire  by  sea ; and  your 
Emperor  and  your  country  may  even  require  your  blood. 
But  the  greater  number  among  you  are  destined  to  other 
careers,  and  may  have  no  such  chances  of  bodily  self-sacri- 
fice. — except  perhaps  in  the  hour  of  some  great  national 
danger,  which  I trust  Japan  will  never  know.  And  there 
is  another  desire,  not  less  noble,  which  may  be  your  compass 
in  civil  life  : to  live  for  your  country  though  you  cannot  die 
for  it.  Like  the  kindest  and  wisest  of  fathers,  your  Gov- 
ernment has  provided  for  you  these  splendid  schools,  with 
all  opportunities  for  the  best  instiaiction  this  scientific  cen- 
tury can  give,  at  a far  less  cost  than  any  other  civilized 
country  can  offer  the  same  advantages.  And  all  this  in  order 
that  ^‘h  of  you  may  help  to  make  your  country  wiser 
and  richer  and  stronger  than  it  has  ever  been  in  the  past. 
And  whoever  does  his  best,  in  any  calling  or  profession,  to 
ennoble  and  develop  that  calling  or  profession,  gives  his 
life  to  his  Emperor  and  to  his  country  no  less  truly  than 
the  soldier  or  the  seaman  who  dies  for  duty. 

I am  not  less  sorry  to  leave  you,  I think,  than  you  are 
to  see  me  go.  The  more  I have  learned  to  know  the  hearts 


688  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


of  Japanese  students,  the  more  I have  learned  to  love  their 
country.  I think,  however,  that  I shall  see  many  of  you 
again,  though  I never  return  to  Matsue  : some  I am  almost 
sure  I shall  meet  elsewhere  in  future  summers ; some  I 
may  even  hope  to  teach  once  more,  in  the  Government 
college  to  which  I am  going.  But  whether  we  meet  again 
or  not,  be  sure  that  my  life  has  been  made  happier  by  know- 
ing you,  and  that  I shall  always  love  you.  And,  now,  with 
renewed  thanks  for  your  beautiful  gift,  good-by  ! 


in. 

The  students  of  the  Normal  School  gave  me  a 
farewell  banquet  in  their  hall.  I had  been  with  them 
so  little  dux’ing  the  year  — less  even  than  the  stipu- 
lated six  hours  a week — that  I could  not  have  sup- 
posed they  would  feel  much  attachment  for  their  for- 
eign teacher.  But  I have  still  much  to  learn  about 
my  Japanese  students.  The  banquet  was  delight- 
ful. The  captain  of  each  class  in  turn  read  in  English 
a brief  farewell  addi’ess  which  he  had  prepared  ; and 
more  than  one  of  those  charming  compositions,  made 
beautiful  with  similes  and  sentiments  drawn  from 
the  old  Chinese  and  Japanese  poets,  will  always  re- 
main in  my  memory.  Then  the  students  sang  their 
college  songs  for  me,  and  chanted  the  Japanese  ver- 
sion of  “ Auld  Lang  Syne  ” at  the  close  of  the  ban- 
quet. And  then  all,  in  military  procession,  escorted 
me  home,  and  cheered  me  farewell  at  my  gate,  with 
shouts  of  “ Manzai  ! ” “ Good-by  ! ” “ W e will'rnarch 
with  you  to  the  steamer  when  you  go.” 

IV. 

But  I shall  not  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  them 
again.  They  are  all  gone  far  away  — some  to 


SA  YONARA  / 


689 


another  world.  Yet  it  is  only  four  days  since  I at- 
tended that  farewell  banquet  at  the  Normal  School ! 
A cruel  visitation  has  closed  its  gates  and  scattered 
its  students  through  the  province. 

Two  nights  ago,  the  Asiatic  cholera,  supposed  to 
have  been  brought  to  Japan  by  Chinese  vessels, 
broke  out  in  different  parts  of  the  city,  and,  among 
other  places,  in  the  Normal  School.  Several  stu- 
dents and  teachers  expired  witliin  a short  while  after 
having  been  attacked ; others  are  even  now  lingering 
between  life  and  deatli.  The  rest  marched  to  the 
little  healthy  village  of  Tainatsukuri,  famed  for  its 
hot  springs.  But  there  the  cholera  again  broke  out 
among  them,  and  it  was  decided  to  dismiss  the  sur- 
vivors at  once  to  their  several  homes.  There  was  no 
panic.  The  military  discipline  remained  unbroken. 
Students  and  teachers  fell  at  their  posts.  The  great 
college  building  was  taken  charge  of  by  the  medical 
authorities,  and  the  work  of  disinfection  and  sani- 
tation is  still  going  on.  Only  the  convalescents  and 
the  fearless  samurai  president,  Saito  Kumataro,  re- 
main in  it.  Like  the  captain  who  scorns  to  leave 
his  sinking  ship  till  all  souls  are  safe,  the  president 
stays  in  the  centre  of  danger,  nursing  the  sick  boys, 
overlooking  the  work  of  sanitation,  transacting  all 
the  business  usually  intrusted  to  several  subordinates, 
whom  he  promptly  sent  away  in  the  first  hour  of 
peril.  He  has  had  the  joy  of  seeing  two  of  his  boys 
saved. 

Of  another,  who  was  buried  last  night,  I hear  this : 
Only  a little  while  before  his  death,  and  in  spite  of 
kindliest  protest,  he  found  strength,  on  seeing  his 
president  approaching  his  bedside,  to  rise  on  his 
elbow  and  give  the  military  salute.  And  with  that 


690  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


brave  greeting  to  a brave  man,  be  passed  into  the 
Great  Silence. 

V. 

At  last  my  passport  has  come.  I must  go. 

The  Middle  School  and  the  adjacent  elementary 
schools  have  been  closed  on  account  of  the  appear- 
ance of  cholera,  and  I protested  against  any  gath- 
ering of  the  pupils  to  bid  me  good-by,  fearing  for 
them  the  risk  of  exposure  to  the  chilly  morning  air 
by  the  shore  of  the  infected  river.  But  my  protest 
was  received  only  with  a merry  laugh.  Last  night 
the  Director  sent  word  to  all  the  captains  of  classes. 
Wherefore,  an  hour  after  sunrise,  some  two  hundred 
students,  with  their  teachers,  assemble  before  my  gate 
to  escort  me  to  the  wharf,  near  the  long  white  bridge, 
where  the  little  steamer  is  waiting.  And  we  go. 

Other  students  are  already  assembled  at  the  w'harf. 
And  with  them  wait  a multitude  of  people  known  to 
me  : friends  or  friendly  acquaintances,  parents  and  rel- 
atives of  students,  every  one  to  whom  I can  remember 
having  ever  done  the  slightest  favor,  and  maii)'^  more 
from  whom  I have  received  favors  which  I never 
had  the  chance  to  return,  — persons  who  worked  for 
me,  merchants  from  whom  I purchased  little  things, 
a host  of  kind  faces,  smiling  salutation.  The  Gov- 
ernor sends  his  secretary  with  a courteous  message ; 
the  President  of  the  Normal  School  hurries  down  for 
a moment  to  shake  hands.  The  Normal  students 
have  been  sent  to  their  homes,  but  not  a few  of  their 
teachers  are  present.  I most  miss  friend  Nishida. 
He  has  been  very  sick  for  two  long  months,  bleeding 
at  the  lungs,  but  his  father  brings  me  the  gentlest 
of  farewell  letters  from  him,  penned  in  bed,  and  some 
pretty  souvenirs. 


SA YONARA ! 


691 


And  now,  as  I look  at  all  these  pleasant  faces 
about  me,  I cannot  but  ask  myself  the  question  : 
“ Could  I have  lived  in  the  exercise  of  the  same  pro- 
fession for  the  same  length  of  time  in  any  other 
country,  and  have  enjoyed  a similar  unbi'oken  expe- 
rience of  human  goodness?”  From  each  and  all  of 
these  I have  received  only  kindness  and  courtesy. 
Not  one  has  ever,  even  through  inadvertence,  ad- 
dressed to  me  a single  ungenerous  word.  As  a 
teacher  of  more  than  five  hundred  boys  and  men,  I 
have  never  even  had  ray  patience  tried.  I wonder 
if  such  an  experience  is  possible  only  in  Japan. 

Bvit  the  little  steamer  shrieks  for  her  passengers. 
I shake  many  hands  — most  heartily,  perliaps,  that 
of  the  brave,  kind  President  of  the  Normal  School  — 
and  climb  on  board.  The  Director  of  the  Jinjo 
Chugakko,  a few  teachers  of  botli  schools,  and  one 
of  my  favorite  pupils,  follow ; they  are  going  to 
accompany  me  as  far  as  the  next  port,  whence  ray 
way  will  be  over  the  mountains  to  Hiroshima. 

It  is  a lovely  vapory  morning,  sharp  with  the  first 
chill  of  winter.  From  the  tiny  deck  I take  my  last 
look  at  the  quaint  vista  of  the  Ohashigawa,  with  its 
long  white  bridge, — at  the  peaked  host  of  queer  dear 
old  houses,  crowding  close  to  dip  their  feet  in  its 
glassy  flood,  — at  the  sails  of  the  junks,  gold-colored 
by  the  early  sun,  — at  the  beautiful  fantastic  shapes 
of  the  ancient  hills. 

Magical  indeed  the  charm  of  this  land,  as  of  a land 
veritably  haunted  by  gods : so  lovely  the  spectral 
delicacy  of  its  colors,  — so  lovely  the  forms  of  its  hills 
blending  with  the  forms  of  its  clouds,  — so  lovely, 
above  all,  those  long  tradings  and  bandings  of  mists 


692  GLIMPSES  OF  UNFAMILIAR  JAPAN. 


which  make  its  altitudes  appear  to  hang  in  air.  A 
land  where  sky  and  earth  so  strangely  intermingle 
that  what  is  reality  may  not  be  distinguished  from 
what  is  illusion,  — that  all  seems  a mirage,  about  to 
vanish.  For  me,  alas!  it  is  about  to  vanish  forever. 

The  little  steamer  shrieks  again,  puffs,  backs  into 
midstream,  turns  from  the  long  white  bridge.  And 
as  the  gray  wharves  recede,  a long  Aaaaaaaaaa  rises 
from  the  uniformed  ranks,  and  all  the  caps  wave, 
flashing  their  Chinese  ideographs  of  brass.  I clam- 
ber to  the  roof  of  the  tiny  deck  cabin,  wave  my  hat, 
and  shout  in  English  : “ Good-by,  good-by  ! ” And 
there  floats  back  to  me  the  cry  : “ Manzai,  manzai!" 
[Ten  thousand  years  to  you  ! ten  thousand  years  I] 
But  already  it  comes  faintly  from  far  away.  The 
packet  glides  out  of  the  river-mouth,  slioots  into  the 
blue  lake,  turns  a pine  - shadowed  point ; and  the 
faces,  and  the  voices,  and  the  wharves,  and  the  long 
white  bridge  have  become  memories. 

Still  for  a little  while  looking  back,  as  we  pass  into 
the  silence  of  the  great  water,  I can  see,  receding  on 
the  left,  the  crest  of  the  ancient  castle,  over  grand 
shaggy  altitudes  of  pine,  — and  the  place  of  my  home, 
with  its  delicious  garden,  — and  the  long  blue  roofs 
of  the  schools.  These,  too,  swdftly  pass  out  of  vision. 
Then  only  faint  blue  water,  faint  blue  mists,  faint 
blues  and  greens  and  grays  of  peaks  looming  through 
varying  distance,  and  beyond  all,  towering  ghost- 
white  into  the  east,  the  glorious  spectre  of  Daisen. 

And  my  heart  sinks  a moment  under  the  rush  of 
those  vivid  memories  which  always  crowd  upon  one 
the  instant  after  parting,  — memories  of  all  that 
make  attachment  to  places  and  to  things.  Remem- 
bered smiles  ; the  morning  gathering  at  the  threshold 


SA YONAHA/ 


693 


of  the  old  yashlki  to  wish  the  departing  teacher  a 
happy  day ; the  evening  gathering  to  welcome  his 
return ; the  dog  waiting  by  the  gate  at  the  accus- 
tomed hour ; the  garden  with  its  lotus-flowers  and 
its  cooing  of  doves ; the  musical  boom  of  the  temple 
bell  from  the  cedar  groves;  songs  of  children  at 
play;  afternoon  shadows  upon  many-tinted  streets; 
the  long  lines  of  lantern-fires  upon  festal  nights ; the 
dancing  of  the  moon  upon  the  lake;  the  clapping  of 
hands  by  the  river  shore  in  salutation  to  the  Izumo 
Bun  ; the  endless  merry  pattering  of  geta  over  the 
windy  bridge ; all  these  and  a hundred  other  happy 
memories  revive  for  me  with  almost  painful  vivid- 
ness, — while  the  far  peaks,  whose  names  are  holy, 
slowly  turn  away  their  blue  shoulders,  and  the  little 
steamer  bears  me,  more  and  more  swiftly,  ever  farther 
and  farther  from  the  Province  of  the  Gods. 


> * 


_ ^ ■> 

♦ •.  ■ ; _ ' 

1 r jT . 


'•  ' • wi 


^■'i. 


INDEX 


[Volume  I.  includes  pages  1-^42 ; Volume  II.,  pages  343-C93.] 


“ Agonashi-Jizo,’*  594. 

Amanjako,  100. 

Arae-no-uzume-no-mikoto,  247  et  pas- 
sim. 

Animals,  prayers  for  tlie  souls  of  do- 
mestic, 124,  125,  and  note. 

Anthem,  the  Japanese  National,  450. 

Apes,  the  Three  Mystic,  46,  127. 

Arakawa  Junosuke,  artist,  405. 

Bamboo,  symbolism  of  the,  494. 

“ Bateiseki,’*  a black  stone,  591  et  pas- 
sim. 

Bato^Kwannon,  124. 

Bckkwa,  ancient  title  of  a Shinto  hiero- 
phant, 253. 

Bells,  famous  Buddhist,  GC,  C7,  note  ; G8. 

B 'liten,  the  Goddess,  51. 

Bimbogami,  the  God  of  Poverty,  177  et 
seq.^  502. 

Bimbomushi,  the  “ Poverty  - Insect,” 
502. 

Birthday  of  Buddha  (j?u.9«Ao6),  36. 

Bokkuri,  145. 

Bommatsuri,  or  Bonku,  Festival  of  the 
Dead,  106,  130.  See,  also,  chapter 
“ By  the  Japanese  Sea.” 

Bon-ichi,  et  seq. 

Bon-Odori,  129-138. 

Bridges,  curious  customs  relating  to, 
148. 

Bronze  Horse  at  Kitzuki,  story  about 
the,  254. 

“ Buddha’s-Fingers,”  a pretty  shrub, 
353. 

Buddhas,  number  of  the,  175. 

Butsudan,  or  Butsuma,  the  Buddhist 
household-shrine,  111,  404  et  seq. 

Calligraphy,  \et  seq.^  256,  266.  See, 
also,  chapter  “The  Writing  of  Kobo- 
daishi.” 

Candles,  votive,  315,  and  note. 

Cats,  superstitions  about,  369;  kept  as 
a safeguard  against  goblins,  ^8,  509. 

Cave  of  the  Children's  Ghosts,  Xu  the, 
211-229. 

Cemeteries,  Buddhist,  40. 

Chamberlain,  Professor  Basil  Hall,  20, 


note ; 44,  50,  note  ; 204,  296,  note ; 307, 
note  ; 318, 355,  367,  note ; 386, 419, 432, 
498,  576,  6(V4,  630. 

Charcoal,  a symbol,  496. 

Charms,  curious:  arrow-shaped,  126, 
151,  235 ; of  Yaegaki,  303-306  ; against 
devils,  499 ; against  burglars,  603. 

Cherry-trees,  extraordinary  beauty  of 
Japanese,  19,  20,  355  et  passim. 

Chickens,  not  allowed  to  exist  in  Mio- 
noseki,  231. 

Cliief  City  of  the  Province  of  the  Gods, 
The,  139-171. 

Chinese  architecture,  63,  04. 

Cicadse,  wonderful  sounds  made  by  Jap- 
anese, 370  et  seq. 

Colds,  god  of  coughs  and,  313,  639. 

Color,  in  Japanese  streets,  2,  3 et  seq. ; 
in  Japanese  landscapes,  57*^76. 

Conder,  Josiah,  345,  note ; 349,  and  note. 

Curiosity  excited  by  foreigners,  213, 
225,  226,  616. 

Cuttle-fish,  276,  589,  590. 

Daibutsu  of  Kamakura,  78,  674. 

Daisen,  Mount,  153  et  passim. 

Dancing-Girl,  Of  a,  52o-552. 

Dancing-girls,  names  of,  307  ; life  of, 
525-533. 

Dead,  prayers  to  the,  409,  410,  412,  413- 
415. 

Death,  touching  custom  relating  to, 
611. 

De  Coulanges,  Fustel,  394. 

I Deities,  evil,  147. 

I Devils,  casting  out  of,  498. 

Diary  of  an  English  Teacher,  From  the, 
430-490. 

Diviuing-papers,  171. 

Divining-sticks,  37. 

Doll,  a philosophical,  465. 

Dolls,  265-267. 

Dragons,  remarkable  carvings  of,  65. 

Drawing,  high  capacity  of  Japanese 
students  in,  436. 

Dreams,  lucky  and  unlucky,  353,  and 
note. 

Education,  the  Imperial  Words  on,  444. 


69G 


index: 


Eggs,  hen’s,  not  allowed  to  be  sold  in 
Mionoseki,  230. 

Elements,  Chinese  ideas  about  the  influ- 
ence of  the,  (530,  note. 

Emma-Do,  remarkable  temple  at 
Ram^ura,  74-76. 

Emma-0,  Lord  of  Hell,  the  Sanscrit 
Yama-rajah,  50,  75,  70. 

Eiido  Morito,  577. 

English  compositions  by  Japanese  stu- 
dents, 457  et  seq. 

En-musubi-no-Kami,  302. 

Enoshima,  85. 

Enoshima,  a pilgrimage  to,  62-104. 

Eyes  of  gods  and  dragons,  606. 

Fem-leaves,  symbolism  of,  495. 

Festivals,  Two  Strange,  491-503. 

Fever,  gliostly  explanation  of  intermit- 
tent, 604. 

Fire-drill,  sacred,  109. 

Flower-shows,  1(57. 

Flowers,  the  Japanese  art  of  arranging, 
344  et  seq. 

Fortune-telling,  37. 

Fox,  superstitious  about  the.  See  chap- 
ter “ Kitsune.” 

Fox-belief,  affecting  the  value  of  real 
estate,  3^. 

Foxes,  the  various  kinds  of  ghostly, 
317. 

“ Fox-fires  ” (ICit$une-bi)j  323. 

Fox-gifts,  illusive  character  of,  232. 

Fox-holes  in  temples  of  Inari,  316. 

Fox-owners  {Kitsune-mochi)^  326  et 
seq.,  (507,  and  note. 

Fox-possession  {KUsune-tsuki),  322. 

Fudo-Sama,  46. 

Funeral  customs,  52,  and  notes  ; in 
Izumo,  482-485. 

Funeral  processions,  weirdness  of,  290, 
484. 

“Fuku-ishi,”  a sacred  stone,  89. 

“ Futon  of  Tottori,”  ghost-story  called 
the,  515. 

Geisha.  See  Dancing-girls. 

Gengebana,  the  flower,  308,  and  note. 

Gentleness,  6,  123,  239,  438,  618,  691  et 
passim. 

Ghosts,  naked  footprints  of,  221  ; a 
congregation  of,  612  ; origin  of  Jap- 
anese pictures  of,  427 ; playmg  at, 
428. 

Ghosts  and  Goblins,  of,  637-655.  See 
chapter  “Of  Ghosts  and  Goblins;” 
also  219  ef  passim. 

Goblin-spiders,  376. 

Go-Daigo,  legends  of  the  exiled  Em- 
peror, 593,  599. 

Gohei,  origin  of,  495. 

Gokuraku,  the  Buddliist  paradise,  57. 

Go-Toba,  the  exiled  Emperor,  614. 

Gwau-hodoki,  votive  offerings,  301, 
note. 

“ Hadaka-Jizo,”  a statue,  73. 


Hair,  colors  of  Japanese,  418,  note. 

Hell,  the  Buddhist,  54-^,  644  et  seq. 

Hideyoshi  and  the  Fox-God,  319. 

Hifukidake,  magical  use  of,  502. 

Hijo,  things  without  desire,  351. 

Hinomisaki,  At,  274-285. 

Hinomisaki-jinja,  a remarkable  temple, 
277  et  seq. 

Hito-koto-Kwannon,  the  Goddess  who 
must  not  be  prayed  to  twice,  551,  and 
note. 

“ Hiza-Kuruge,”  a famous  comedy,  335. 

Hoin,  exerciser,  325. 

Hoki  to  Oki,  From,  553-625. 

Holiday  decorations,  491  et  passim. 

Honen-odori,  the  harvest  dance,  269  el 
seq. 

Hotoke,  various  strange  meanings  of 
the  word,  605. 

Hotoke-umi,  the  Sea  of  the  Dead,  504 
et  passim. 

Hototogisu,  ghostly  belief  about  the 
bird  called,  376. 

Household  Shrine,  the,  385,  416. 

Hyakusho,  125,  note. 

Ihai,  or  mortuary  tablet,  Buddhist.  See 
chapter  “The  Household  Shrine;” 
beautiful  legend  of  an,  (>51  ; the 
Shinto,  409. 

Ikigami,  “ living  deity,”  189. 

Iki-ningyo,  641. 

Inada-hime,  294. 

Inari,  popular  ideas  of,  312  et  seq. 

Inasa,  at  Kitzuki,  264. 

“ Infinite  Vision,”  328,  and  note. 

Inneu,  or  Karma,  287. 

Inouye  Enryo,  Buddhist  scholar,  682, 
note. 

James,  J.  M.,  328,  note. 

James,  Mrs.  T.  H.,  426,  note. 

“Japan  Daily  Mail,”  the,  (581,  note. 

Japanese  Garden,  In  a,  343-3^ 

Jewel,  the  Mystic  43. 

“Jin-0,”  the  “Ten  Kings,”  75. 

Jizo,  34  et  passim;  “ Agonashi-J.,” 
594;  “ The  Six  J.,”  127, 128,  and  note ; 
143. 

Kadomatsu,  “Gate  Pine-tree,”  493,  and 
note. 

Kaguhana,  54,  55. 

Kaimyo,  posthumous  names  conferred 
by  Buddhism,  112.  See,  also,  chapter 
“ The  Household  Shrine.” 

Kaka-ura,  village  of,  224  et  seq. 

Kakemono,  a remarkable  Buddhist, 
464. 

Kamakura,  62-84. 

Kame-da-yu,  200. 

Kami,  number  of  the,  176. 

Kappa,  505,  506,  and  note. 

Karashishi,  338  et  passim. 

Eatayama  Shokei,  teacher,  488. 

Kembutsu,  589. 

Ken,  the  game  of,  527. 


IXDEX. 


697 


Keng>’o.  Shinto  title,  282. 

Ken-ro-ji-jin,  the  £arth-Ood,  100. 

Kichinyado,  159. 

Kishibojin,  96. 

Kitoja<no-moDO,  511. 

Kitten,  the  Beckoning,  530. 

Kitzuki : the  Most  Ancient  Shrine  of 
Japan,  172-210. 

Kitsuki,  Notes  on,  244-273. 

Kitsune,  310-342. 

Kobodaishi,  The  Writing  of,  29-33. 

Kodomo-no-Inari,  the  Children's  Fox- 
God,  337. 

“Ko-ji-ki,”  Professor  B.  H.  Chamber- 
lain's translation  of  the,  20,  172,  186, 
193,  204, 208,  note ; 231, 2<M,  312,  note ; 
318,  note ; 390,  419,  note  ; 432,  495. 

Kojin,  worn-out  dolls  offered  to  the 
god,  268. 

Kokuzo,  197,  note ; 205,  note  ; 206,  207. 

Kokuzo-ar«^,  201. 

Koshin,  God  of  Roads,  98  et  passim. 

Koteda-Yasusada,  Governor  of  Shimane 
Ken,  143,  431,  444,  450,  456,  476. 

Koto-ita,  a kind  of  sacred  musical  in- 
strument, 199. 

Koto-shiro-nushi-no>Kami,  186,  note,  et 
passim. 

Kubi-oke,  or  “ head-box,”  284. 

Kudan,  a fabulous  animal,  567,  and 
note. 

Kwannon,  the  Buddhist  divinity  : Kwan-  I 
nou-of-the-Thousand-Hands,  46 ; other 
forms  of  the  goddess,  69,  70,  note ; 
Kwannon  - of  - the  - Eleven  - Faces,  82  ; 
Uorse-lieaded  Kwannon,  124  ; votive 
offerings  to  Kwannon,  256 ; Hito- 
koto-Kwannon  at  Nara,  551. 

“ Lady  Moon,”  171,  note. 

“Lady  Sun.”  See  0-Hi-San. 

Lake  of  Blood,  the,  56. 

Lamps  of  the  Gods,  rules  for  lighting 
the,  410  et  seq. 

Left  side,  lucky,  495. 

Legends  and  stories,  29-33,  68,  72-74, 
76,  82-84, 97,  108, 109,  note ; 127,  note ; 
148-150,  152,  161-165,  177,  178,  180, 
185,  190-197,  200,  204,  207,  217,  note  ; 
229,  231,  2.53-255,  283-285,  294,  297, 
333,  318,  359,  363,  365,  369,  373,  and  1 
notes ; 425,  426,  and  note ; 506,  note  ; 
515,  521,  529,  note ; 566,  577,  591, 593, 
594,  600,  648,  651. 

Lobster,  emblem  of  longevity,  497. 

Lotus-flowers,  14  et  passim.  For  arti-  i 
ficial,  see  chapter  “At  the  Market  of  , 
the  Dead.”  Souls  born  from  lotus-  | 
flowers,  57.  See,  also,  chapter  “ In 
a Japanese  Garden.” 

“Lotus  of  the  Good  Law,”  the,  39, 
143. 

Lowell,  Percival,  259,  682. 

Lullaby,  Japanese,  609. 

Magic,  603,  632. 

Magic-lantern  show,  646. 


Market  of  the  Dead,  At  the,  105-119. 

Match-boxes,  curious  inscription  upon, 
411. 

Matches,  should  not  be  used  to  light 
the  lamps  of  the  Shinto  gods,  410, 
411. 

Medusa-legends,  425. 

Meibutsu,  589. 

Meido,  the  World  of  the  Dead,  53,  54 
et  passim. 

Melodies  of  peasant-songs,  137. 

■ Miko,  Virgin  priestess,  201,  202,  246  et 

I seq. 

j Mikuji,  37. 

! Minige,  a strange  festival  called,  253. 

Miojinja,  the  famous  temple  of  Mio- 
uoseki,  235  et  passim. 

Minoseki,  At,  2^-243. 

“ Mirror  of  Souls,”  the,  57. 

Mirrors  of  jealous  women,  426,  and 
note. 

Miruine  and  Kaguhana,  “the  Wit- 
nesses,” 54,  55. 

Mitsu-ura,  village  of,  213. 

Miya,  Shinto  houseliold  shrine,  39  et 

I seq. 

MijTiki,  ancient  ceremony  called,  622. 

I Mokenren,  Dai,  108. 

■ Mokugyo,  47  et  passim. 

Mongaku  Shonin,  577-579. 

Monjin-Bosatsu,  31. 

Morse,  E.  S.,  349. 

Mouths  of  Sacred  Images,  why  open  or 
shut,  338,  and  note. 

Moxa,  004,  and  note. 

Nagoya  Sanza,  248. 

Nakamura  Mougoro  of  Kitzuki,  248- 
251. 

I Nanten,  curious  belief  about  the  plant, 

I 353. 

j Navel-string,  preservation  of  the,  508. 

Nehan-gjo,  Nirvana-Sutra,  490. 

I Ni-0,  26,  and  note. 

Niahida  Sentaro,  teacher,  173,  430,  433, 

I 439,  440,  690. 

Nobori,  little  paper  flags,  301,  302. 

Nominosukuue,  patron  deity  of  wrest- 
lers, 195. 

Normal  Schools,  discipline  of  students 
in,  434  et  seq.  See,  also,  cljapter 
“ Sayouara.” 

“Nuke-kubi,'’  weird  superstition,  423 
et  seq. 

Oba,  Fox-God  of,  313. 

Offerings  to  the  dead,  explanation  of 
popular  idea  about,  409. 

Offerings  to  the  gods,  curious,  613. 

1 0-Hiine-San,  title  of  a Shinto  Pontiff's 
daughters,  282. 

0-Hi-San,  223^  and  note. 

Oho-kuni-nushi-no-Kami,  the  great  god 
of  Izumo,  186,  275. 

Oki,  extraordinary  kindness  and  hon- 
esty of  the  people  of,  580,  586,  601, 
602. 


698 


INDEX. 


0-Kuni,  the  Miko,  tradition  of,  248. 
Oui-yarai,  498. 

Otafuku,  ma^ik  representing,  111,  247, 
259. 

Orient,  My  First  Day  in  the,  1-Cl. 
0-Tsuki-San,  171,  and  note. 

Peas,  devils  hate  dried,  498. 
“People-shapes”  {hitogata)^  503. 
Phantom-ships,  569. 

Phantom-temple,  611. 

Pilgrimage  to  Enoslhma,  a,  62-104. 
Pilgrimages,  enormous,  159. 

Pillow-lore,  517. 

Pine,  a phallic,  511. 

Police,  Japanese,  620,  note. 

Privacy,  absence  of,  618,  619. 

Proverbs,  curious,  76,  note. 

Rebirth,  strange  story  of,  522  ; beliefs 
about,  610. 

“Rokudo-kane,”  money  buried  with 
the  dead,  52,  note. 

Roku-Jizo,  127,  128,  and  note. 

Roofing,  an  extraordinary  kind  of,  280. 
Ryobu-Shinto,  279, 

Sa-hime-yaraa,  legend  of,  180. 

Saibun,  address  to  the  soul  of  a dead 
person,  487  et  seq. 

Saigo,  chief  city  of  Oki,  583. 

Sai-no-ik^,  a sacred  lake,  596. 
Saino-kawara,  44  et  passim;  pictures 
of,  55,  56. 

“Sai  - no  - Kawara-Kuchi-zu-sami-no- 
den,”  a curious  book  about  the  place 
of  cliildren’s  ghosts,  44,  55,  56. 
Saito-Kumataro,  President  of  the  Matsue 
Normal  School,  689  et  seq. 

Sambo,  497. 

Sanzu-no-Kawa,  the  Phantom-river  over 
which  the  dead  must  pass,  52,  53. 
Saruda-hiko-no-mikoto,  127, 

Sasa,  priest  of  Kitzuki,  188  et  seq.^  194, 
203,  204,  252. 

Satow,  Ernest,  19,  note ; 147,  312,  note ; 

359,  386,  392,  note  ; 393-395. 

Sayonara,  684-693. 

Scarecrows,  god  of,  298. 

Sea,  By  the  Japanese,  504-524. 

Segaki,  offerings  to  hungry  spirits, 
108. 

Sekirei,  wagtails,  298. 

Senke  Takanori,  Pontiff  of  Kitzuki,  173, 
note  ; 187,  191  et  seq.y  245,  246. 
Serpent,  the  sacred,  184-186,  and  notes. 
Setsubun,  the  festival  called,  498. 
Shaba-world,  Buddhist  name  for  this 
world,  53  et  passim. 

Shachihoko,  350,  and  note. 

Shaka,  “ Sakya-Muni,”  26-04. 

Shakujo,  origin  of  the,  498,  note. 
Shimekazari,  496,  note. 

Shimenawa,  sacred  straw  rope,  20 ; rules 
for  making,  495  et  seq. 

Shinju,  286-293. 

Shinbotoke,  or  “ new'  Buddhas,”  412. 


Shinto,  exemplifies  Herbert  Spencer’s 
law  of  religious  evolution,  39^395. 

Shiraboshi,  533. 

Shiyeki-jinja,  curious  history  of  the 
temple  called,  285. 

Shoryobune,  the  straw  ships  of  the 
dead.  See  chapter  “ At  the  Market 
of  the  Dead  ; ” also  509  et  seq. 

Side-shows,  queer  exhibitions  in  Japa- 
nese, 425. 

Silk,  forbidden  by  Buddhism,  72, 13. 

Small-pox  god,  147. 

Smile,  The  Japanese,  6.56-683. 

Snakes,  superstition  about,  368. 

“ Snow  Woman,”  the,  637. 

Sotoba,  in  Buddhist  cemeteries,  Sanscrit 
stupa.,  40. 

Sodzu-Baba,  the  Goblin-Hag  of  the 
Sanzu-uo-Kawa,  52. 

“Soul  of  the  Far  East,”  Lowell’s,  259, 

682,  and  note. 

Souls,  Of,  626-636. 

Souls,  strange  beliefs  about,  359,  note; 
631,  632;  souls  of  trees,  358;  magical 
invocation  of  the  souls  of  living  per- 
sons, 632. 

Spencer,  Herbert,  392,  394,  453,  682, 

683,  and  note. 

Spirit  of  Food,  the  August,  300,  312  et 
passim. 

Statues,  animated,  255. 

Steed,  a supernatural,  591. 

Stones,  beauty  of,  345 ; musical,  296 ; 
sacred,  89,  92  et  passirn,  348 ; used  in 
praying,  43,  44,  and  note. 

Straw,  effigies  made  of,  252,  511.  See, 
also,  chapter  “At  the  Market  of  the 
Dead.” 

Straw  ships.  See  Shoryobune. 

Study,  amazing  earnestness  in,  666. 

Suicide,  letter  of  a,  291. 

Suicides,  extraordinary  and  heroic,  391. 

Svastika  {manju)j  509. 

Tabari-no-Kagami,  the  Magic  Mirror  of 
the  Underworld,  54. 

Tablets,  ancestral,  405  et  seq. ; beautiful 
custom  relating  to  mortuary,  406,  407. 
See,  also,  under  Ihai. 

Tamamouomac,  The  Fox-Woman,  335. 

Tatami,  or  floor-mats,  281  et  passim. 

Tegashiwa,  the  Beckoning  Plant,  352. 

Tengu,  122,  340. 

Tenjin,  festival  of,  256. 

Tenuiu,  or  Buddhist  angels,  58  et  pas- 
sim. 

Thousand  Jizo,  tlie,  71. 

Thousand  Visits,  the  Vow  of  a,  302. 

Thunder-Animal,  the,  500. 

Tobikawa,  the  wrestler,  story  of,  340. 

Tomoye,  the  sjTiibol,  259. 

Torii,  19,  note,  et  passim. 

Torio,  remarkable  essay  by  Viscoimt, 
676. 

Tortoise,  folklore  about,  367. 

Toys,  258  et  seq. 

Trees,  goblin  or  ghostly,  303,  358  et 


INDEX.  G99 


seq.,  427;  sacred,  251,  258,  302,  305, 
3G0,  600,  614. 

Tsuito-kwai,  form  of  service  for  the 
dead,  485  et  seq» 

Ugutsu,  the  bird  called,  143  et  seq.,  381, 
382 

Ujigami,  164,  394. 

Ujiko,  164. 

Ujo,  things  having  desire,  351. 

Uuke  Sosei,  Buddhist  sculptor,  76. 

Uryo,  282. 

Wallace,  A.  R.,  492,  note. 

Wasan,  or  hymn  of  Jizo,  53. 

Woman,  flowers  compared  with,  357. 

Woman’s  Hair,  Of,  417-429. 

Woman’s  language,  291. 

“ Words  of  Perfume”  a sacred  acrostic, 
487. 

Wrestlers,  foxes  afraid  of,  329. 

Writing,  wholesome  superstition  about, 


503 ; beautiful,  see  under  Calligra- 
phy. 

Yaegaki-jiiija,  294-309. 

Vakii-otoshi,  the  caster  • out  of  devils, 
498. 

Yakushi-Nyorai,  175. 

Yakushi-Sauia,  47. 

Y'amabato,  or  wild  dove,  381. 

Yamabushi,  an  exerciser,  325. 

Yama-no-mono,  a pariah  class,  288. 

Yamazakiira,  humorous  play  on  the 
name,  355,  note. 

Yanagi,  odd  beliefs  relating  to  the  wil- 
low-tree, 598.  See,  also,  under  Trees, 
Goblin. 

Yane-shobu,  the  roof-plant,  62. 

Yasugi,  village  of,  231. 

Yuzuri,  symbolism  of  plant  called,  354. 

Zuijiu,  the  guardian  figures  at  Shinto 
gateways,  299. 


BOOKS  ABOUT  JAPAN 


Japan:  In  History,  Folk-Lore,  and  Art. 

By  William  Elliot  Griffis,  D.  D.,  author  of  “The  Mi- 
kado’s Empire,”  “ The  Lily  among  Thorns,”  etc.  In  River- 
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In  writing  of  the  “history,  folk-lore,  and  art”  of  Japan,  Dr.  Griffis 
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ple and  the  government.  His  opportunities  for  gaining  a knowledge 
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struggle  between  the  old  order  of  things  and  the  new.  — Boston  Tran- 
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Japanese  Girls  and  Women. 

By  Alice  Mabel  Bacon.  i6mo.  Si. 25. 

Miss  Bacon’s  opportunities  were  unequaled,  and  she  has  used  them 
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A Japanese  Interior. 

By  Alice  M.  Bacon,  author  of  “Japanese  Girls  and  Wo- 
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It  is  more  than  probable  that  this  little  book  will  win  even  more 
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of  Fusiyama-land.  — Literary  World,  Boston. 

One  of  the  best  books  ever  written  about  Japan,  and  delightfully 
readable.  — Boston  Beacon. 

An  American  Missionary  in  Japan. 

By  Rev.  M.  L.  Gordon,  D.  I).  i6mo,  51.25. 

\\  ith  a directness,  frankness,  and  clearness  that  charm.  Dr.  Gordon 
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widely  read.  — New  York  Evening  Post, 

Joseph  Hardy  Neesima. 

By  Arthur  Sherburne  Hardy,  author  of  “But  Yet  a 
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This  account  of  one  of  the  most  famous  Japanese  of  modem  times 
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Noto:  An  Unexplored  Corner  of  Japan. 

By  Percival  Lowell.  i6mo,  gilt  top,  Sr.25. 

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By  Percival  Lowell.  i6mo,  gilt  top,  $1.25. 

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New  York. 

A Glimpse  at  the  Art  of  Japan. 

By  Jame-S  Jackson  Jarves.  Illustrated  from  Japanese  de- 
signs. i2mo,  $2.50. 

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The  Pictorial  Arts  of  Japan. 

Reproducing  works  by  representative  Japanese  Artists  from 
the  Seventh  Century  to  the  Present  Time.  By  William 
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Artist's  Proof  Edition.  With  Plates  on  Japanese  paper.  Edi- 
tion limited  to  100  copies,  numbered  and  signed  by  the  author. 
The  set,  $100.00,  net.  (Sold  only  by  Subscription.) 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  & CO.,  Boston. 

II  East  17TH  Street,  New  York. 


